EIBRARY! 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CA10FORNI* 
DAVJS 


BLUE  EYE 

A  STORY  OF 
THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  PLAINS 


BY 


OGAL  ALIA 


Portland,  Oregon 

THE  IRWIN-HODSON  COMPANY 

Printers  and  Binders 

1905 


LIBRARY 
.UMVEJRSITY  OF 
DAVIS 


Copyright  1905. 

MOCK,  MICKEY  &  CO. 

Nampa.  Idaho. 


All  rights  in  this  book,  including  the  rights  of  publication  of  extracts,  translation, 
dramatization  and  recitation  are  reserved. 


INTRODUCTION. 


"  Ef  it's  clippin'  kewpons  er  mules'  tails  yer 
choosin'  fer  a  perfession,  clip  th'  kewpons;  it's 
more  prof'table  an'  not  so  dangerous." 


There  is  no  place  in  America  where  the  early 
settlers  met  with  greater  difficulties  than  did  "The 
people  of  the  plains."  The  country  between  the 
Rocky  mountains  and  the  Missouri,  the  Arkan 
sas  and  the  Platte  rivers  might  be  called  a  great 
battlefield.  The  Indians  never  fought  harder  to 
hold  a  territory  than  they  did  for  this  great  plain. 
This  was  the  hunting  ground  for  tribes  from 
north  and  south,  and  many  a  rancher  gave  up 
his  life  while  trying  to  build  a  home.  But  as  a 
great  general  once  said,  "They  were  born  for 
that;  the  foundations  of  states  are  always  laid 
on  aching  hearts."  But  it  has  ever  been  American 
to  take  chances;  "th'  shore  things  air  all  roped 
an'  branded." 

The  people  who  settled  along  the  streams  of 
this  great  plain  dreamed  of  herds  of  cattle  as 
numerous  as  the  buffalo — it  was  the  almighty 
dollar  that  led  them  on.  Some  called  it  adven 
ture,  but  "the  dollar  mark  is  about  the  crookedest 
thing  I  ever  saw." 

The  stockmen  drove  the  Indians  and  buffalo 
from  these  plains,  but  settlers  came,  and  now 
cattle  kings  and  cowboys  are  of  the  past — three 


great  changes  in  forty  years.  Who  can  look  into 
the  future  and  tell  what  changes  the  next  forty 
years  will  bring? 

To  the  old  time  cowboys  with  whom  I  rode 
for  fifteen  years,  whose  cultus  corries  are  now 
ended,  I  bid  a  fond  Klahowya. 


CHAPTER  I. 

I  was  only  a  lad  when  I  made  my  way  into 
Colorado  and  went  to  work  on  the  range.  Dur 
ing  the  first  three  years  of  my  cowboy  life  I 
cut  four  sets  of  eye  teeth,  and  saw  many  things 
that  were  not  on  the  level — for  instance,  the 
Rocky  mountains.  But  I  did  not  get  real  busy 
until  I  commenced  work  for  the  Three  Bar  cat 
tle  company,  in  the  seventies,  and  at  once  com 
menced  to  see  things. 

It  was  a  lovely  spring  day  when  I  rode  up 
to  the  home  ranch  on  the  Arickaree,  and  was 
greeted  by  a  kindly  fellow  I  had  known  as  Tobe. 
He  extended  his  hand,  told  me  to  unsaddle  my 
pony,  turn  him  into  the  pasture,  and  come  in. 

"Had  anything  t'  eat  t'day?"  he  asked,  as 
he  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  and  patted 
my  horse  on  the  neck. 

"  Not  since  morning,"  I  replied. 

"  Then  come  right  in." 

I  followed  as  he  led  the  way,  for  it  was 
three  o'clock,  and  I  had  ridden  fifty  miles  that 
day,  and,  as  he  remarked  when  I  had  finished 
the  lunch,  "brought  my  appetite  with  me." 

"  Whar'd  ye  come  from,"  he  asked,  after  T 
had  refused  "something  more." 

From  Los  Animas.  Been  on  the  trail  three 
days.  Stopped  over  on  the  Beaver  last  night, 
with  old  Uncle  Zach  Foiley. 


"  Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  ye've  come.  Coin' 
t'  stay  with  us  this  summer?" 

"  Yes,  if  Dan  wants  another  man." 

"  Wall,  he  does,  an'  jis'  tother  day  we  wus 
talkin'  'bout  ye.  He's  never  forgot  th'  little 
favor  ye  done  'im  las'  summer,  when  ye  wus  to 
gether  down  on  th'  Picket  Wire,  an'  th'  Mexi 
cans  stole  'is  hosses.  From  O'  Kaintuck,  ain't 
ye,  same  's  I  am?" 

"  No,  from  North  Carolina." 

"  Wall,  it's  nearly  th'  same.  Gran'  ol'  south 
Ian'.  Like  t'  see  a  nice  southern  gal  ag'in? 
Wall,  I'll  jis'  show  ye  one." 

He  pulled  a  bundle  of  letters  from  his  pocket, 
handed  me  a  photo,  but  reached  over,  took  the 
picture,  put  it  back  into  his  pocket,  and  con 
tinued  : 

"  No,  that  ain't  th'  one.  That's  my  sister 
Nellie.  'Blue  Eye,'  we  called  'er;  killed  by  th* 
Injuns  nearly  two  y'ars  ago.  Yes,  Injuns  killed 
my  father,  mother,  brother  an'  two  sisters." 

Here  he  stopped,  turned  his  head,  and  wiped 
his  eyes. 

"Ah!   here  she  is.     Purty  fine  gal,  eh?" 

"  Truly  a  beautiful  girl.  One  I  could  fall  in 
love  with  myself,"  I  remarked  as  I  handed  him 
back  the  photo. 

"  Shore  ye  would ;  but  she's  all  mine.  I  got 
a  ranch  up  th'  river,  an'  some  cows  an'  hosses 
on  th'  range,  an'  she's  goin'  t'  be  th'  missis  o' 
thet  place." 

"  What's  her  name,  Tobe?" 

"  Miss  Hansom — Edna  Hansom.  'Bout  a 
y'ar  f 'om  this  fall  ye'll  see  me  hittin'  th'  trail  fer 
th'  railroad  a-goin'  back  after  'er.  I  want  t'  see 

8 


me  ole  Kaintucky  home  a'gin,  so  I'll  make  th' 
visit  an'  bring  'er  home  'ith  me.  But  I  mus'  go 
an'  git  supper.  Th'  boys'll  be  in  purty  soon,  so 
ye  can  amuse  yerself  fer  a  few  minutes." 

My  pony  did  not  take  very  kindly  to  the 
horses  I  had  turned  him  out  with,  but  stood  at 
the  gate  looking  up  toward  the  house.  I  asked 
Tobe  for  some  dry  bread,  which  I  took  down  to 
him.  Muggins  was  not  as  handsome,  perhaps, 
as  some  horses;  he  was  a  dark  iron  gray,  with 
black,  heavy  mane  and  tail,  weighed  about  a 
thousand  pounds,  but  was  gentle  and  true  as 
steel.  He  never  saw  a  trail  so  long  that  he  could 
not  carry  me  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other  in  a 
day,  and  was  always  ready  for  a  trip  the  next 
day. 

"  Supper's  ready,  men,"  I  heard  Tobe  say,  as 
I  returned  to  the  house. 

The  foreman,  Old  Dan,  as  the  boys  called 
him,  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  as  the  other  boys 
came  in  he  introduced  me  to  Uncle  Jimmy,  To 
mato  Charley,  Speck  and  Hen,  the  two  Dutch 
boys.  Arkansaw  Bill,  one  of  the  Bar  T.  riders, 
came  in  later,  got  a  bite  to  eat,  took  a  few  shots 
at  the  house  cat,  then  turning  to  me,  asked : 

"  Whar'd  ye  come  from,  ye  Mexican  hoss 
thief?" 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  took  a  shot 
at  one  of  my  bootheels,  cutting  off  about  half  of 
it.  He  then  mounted  his  horse  and  started  south, 
singing : 

"  Oh!    I'm  a  she  wolf  an'  it's  my  night  t'  howl." 

It  was  lucky  for  him — and  the  writer,  too, 
probably — that  my  sixshooter  was  out  on  my  sad 
dle,  for  as  it  was,  he  rode  away  peacefully,  and 


I  went  out  to  the  tool  house  and  mended  my 
boot. 

The  ranch  houses  were  good,  substantial,  sod 
buildings,  situated  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Arickaree  river,  a  stream  that  runs  between 
the  North  and  South  Republican  rivers,  and 
flows  into  the  North  fork  a  few  miles  above  the 
junction  of  the  two  streams. 

The  company  owned  about  six  thousand  head 
of  cattle,  a  thousand  horses,  and  in  addition  to 
several  hundred  acres  of  fine  hay  land  at  the 
home  ranch,  owned  another  ranch  about  seventy 
miles  up  the  river,  called  "The  Meadows,"  where 
they  wintered  their  saddle  horses  and  part  of 
their  cattle. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  foreman,  when  I  spoke  to 
him  about  a  place,  "I'll  send  you  out  in  a  few 
days.  I  am  going  out  to  the  roundup  with  Char 
ley,  so  when  I  get  back  will  fit  you  out.  Help 
about  the  ranch  here  till  I  get  in." 

There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  wait, 
so  I  assisted  Uncle  Jimmy,  the  oldest  inhabitant, 
as  Tobe  called  him,  and  Speck.  Speck  was  just 
from  the  fadderland,  was  "red-headed"  and  so 
freckled  it  was  difficult  to  tell  whether  he  was 
white  with  'brown  spots,  or  brown  with  white 
spots.  I  understood  at  once  why  the  boys  called 
him  Speck.  He  was  about  seventeen  years  old, 
and  although  the  homeliest  boy  I  ever  saw,  dur 
ing  all  the  years  I  knew  him  he  never  shirked 
nor  forgot  a  friend.  He  would  work  overtime 
that  he  might  assist  some  one  else  with  their 
work. 

When  the  foreman  returned,  he  called  me  into 
his  room  one  evening  after  supper  and  com- 

10 


menced  to  relate  reminiscences  of  earlier  days. 
Uncle  Jimmy  came  in,  not  so  much  that  he 
wanted  a  cigar,  but  that  he  was  very  curious,  and 
being  a  privileged  character,  generally  came  and 
went  as  he  pleased. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  Speck,"  said  the  fore 
man,  as  he  handed  me  another  cigar,  "and  go 
up  and  take  charge  of  the  Meadows  ranch. 
Here  is  a  letter  to  the  foreman  up  there  telling 
him  to  come  down  here.  I  have  not  said  so  in 
the  letter,  but  I  am  going  to  discharge  him.  There 
are  too  many  cattle  in  that  country  with  fresh 
brands,  and  I  want  you  to  keep  a  close  watch 
on  the  fellows  who  are  doing  the  "rebranding 
and  butchering  cattle.  The  letter  will  dispose  of 
the  foreman,  and  if  necessary  you  can  discharge 
the  help  he  has  there  now.  I  am  determined 
to  break  up  that  gang  of  thieves  if  it  takes  a 
hanging  bee  to  do  it.  I  have  my  suspicions  as 
to  part  of  the  gang,  but  as  I  have  no  positive 
proof  will  mention  no  names.  I  have  been  wish 
ing  you  would  come  up  and  work  for  me,  not 
that  I  wanted  you  to  do  a  lot  of  disagreeable 
work,  but  I  wanted  some  one  I  could  trust  and 
one  they  will  not  be  suspecting.  You  can  fix 
to  start  in  the  morning,  and  stay  until  the 
hay  is  put  up." 

Uncle  Jimmy,  who  had  been  listening  to  the 
foreman's  instructions,  got  up,  walked  across 
the  room,  stretched  himself,  yawned,  and  as  he 
turned  to  leave  the  room,  said  he  remembered  the 
time  when  all  the  soft  jobs  were  given  to  tender- 
feet,  but  now  they  took  nothing  but  positions 
as  foremen.  I  told  Tobe  what  I  was  to  do  and 
he  seemed  much  disappointed. 

ii 


"  I  thought  ye  wus  goin'  out  'ith  me,"  he 
said,  "an'  I'd  be  mighty  glad  ef  ye  would,  I 
hev  to  start  out  'ith  th'  mess  wagon  day  after 
tomorrie  an'  cook  fer  th'  roundup.  I'll  meet  th' 
boys  down  b'low  th'  mouth  o'  Burntwood,  an' 
work  up  th'  south  side  's  fer  's  th'  T.  T.  ranch, 
I  guess.  Then  th'  next  trip  we  go  south  t'  th' 
Arkansaw." 

I  told  him  I  would  rather  go  with  him,  as  I 
did  not  like  the  work  assigned  me,  but  not  hav 
ing  any  choice  in  the  matter  would  start  for  the 
Meadows  in  the  morning. 

"  And  now  about  Arkansaw  Bill— where  is 
he  working?" 

"Over  't  th'  Bar  T.  Why?  Don't  ye  like 
'im?" 

"  Well,  I  have  seen  him  a  few  times,  and  al 
though  I  never  had  any  trouble  with  him,  I  am 
frank  to  say  I  do  not  like  him.  He's  a  big 
bluffer,  and  if  I  am  not  badly  mistaken  is  dis 
honest.  Now  I  am  not  prejudiced  against  him 
because  he  shot  my  bootheel  off,  but  I  never  liked 
his  looks.  I  took  some  cattle  away  from  him 
last  summer  over  on  the  deer  trail  that  he  was 
driving  away,  and  he  of  course  doesn't  like  me; 
but  there  is  no  love  lost  so  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
When  I  see  a  rider  driving  cattle  away  from 
their  home  range,  I  make  it  my  business  to  turn 
those  cattle  back,  even  if  it  takes  a  scrap  to  do  it. 
So  far  as  I  know  this  is  all  there  is  between  us. 
I  would  do  the  same  thing  again,  no  matter  who 
the  rider  was,  as  that  is  one  of  the  things  I  am 
hired  to  do.  Bill  may  be  all  right,  but  if  he 
works  with  your  wagon  this  summer,  keep  a 

12 


close  watch  and  see  who  throws  the  strays  into 
the  roundup." 

"  Wall,  now,  I  nacherly  thought  he  wus  a  good 
feller,"  said  Tobe,  "  'cept  when  he's  drinkin'. 
Course  he's  all  wrong  then.  I  think  ye'll  fin' 
Bill  straight,  but  sence  ye  mention  it,  I'll  jis'  keep 
me  eyes  squinted  in  his  direction." 

Tobe  was  of  the  same  opinion  as  all  the  other 
boys,  but  if  you  will  read  you  will  see  how  easy 
it  is  for  some  men  to  deceive  their  associates. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  next  day  Speck  and  I  started  on  our 
journey  to  the  Meadows.  The  foreman  had 
given  us  four  big  work  horses  and  a  splendid 
string  of  saddle  horses,  and  when  all  was  ready 
mounted  his  own  horse  and  accompanied  us  to 
the  state  line,  or  rather  the  state  corner.  Here 
he  pointed  out  a  large  white  post  standing  just 
south  of  us,  but  not  visible  from  the  trail  going 
up  the  river  until  one  had  passed  it. 

"There,"  said  he,  "is  Kansas;  there  is 
Colorado  on  that  side,  and  this  is  Nebraska;  I 
wish  you  would  remember  that,  for  it  becomes 
necessary  for  some  people  to  change  their  resi 
dence  very  suddenly  some  times,  and  I  have 
known  men  not  only  to  go  from  one  state  to  an 
other  in  this  locality,  but  be  in  three  states  in 
side  of  that  many  seconds." 

He  then  bade  us  good-bye,  admonishing  us 
to  do  well  what  we  found  to  do,  tilted  back  his 
head  and  started  back  down  the  river  singing, 

"  I  left  the  parlor  early, 

"  I  think  'twas  scarcely  nine, 

"  When  by  some  lucky  fortune — " 

and  disappeared  behind  a  small  bluff. 

"  There  is  Kansas ;  that  is  Colorado  on  that 
side,  and  this  is  Nebraska;  I  wish  you  would 
remember  that,  for  it  becomes  necessary  for  some 
people  to  change  their  residence  very  suddenly 
some  times." 

These  words  kept  ringing  in  my  ears. 


Did  he  think  I  was  a  Mexican  horse  thief  as 
Arkansaw  Bill  called  me  ?  No,  it  couldn't  be  that, 
or  he  would  never  have  trusted  me  to  take  charge 
of  the  upper  ranch.  And,  besides,  there  were 
few  officers  in  the  country,  except  self-appointed 
and  self-constituted  committees,  and  these  men 
did  not  stop  to  consider  jurisdictional  lines. 

"A  gang  of  thieves  must  be  gotten  rid  of." 

Why  should  be  select  me  to  do  such  work 
instead  of  sending  some  older  and  better  posted 
man?  I  finally  came  to  a  conclusion,  and  after 
wards  learned  I  was  right.  I  was  practically  a 
stranger  in  the  country  and  would  not  be  sus 
pected,  whereas,  if  some  one  who  was  well  known 
was  sent  up  there,  the  little  "close  herd"  could 
be  driven  back  into  the  hills  and  no  positive  proof 
be  obtained  as  to  who  the  "rustlers"  were.  But 
I  was  sad  at  heart.  The  hills  were  covered  with 
cattle  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  Gray  wolves 
and  coyotes  went  skulking  across  the  creek  bot 
tom,  and  antelope  and  buffalo  grazed  among  the 
cattle.  All  interesting,  but  I  was  not  in  the 
proper  mood  to  enjoy  my  surroundings.  There 
was  work  of  a  serious  nature  ahead  of  me,  and  in 
order  to  make  a  good  report  when  I  returned 
I  must  do  that  work  well. 

We  had  trudged  on  through  the  sand,  making 
slow  progress,  coming  finally  to  a  spring  where  a 
dim  trail  led  back  southward  from  the  river,  and 
went  into  camp.  The  horses  were  hobbled,  and 
while  Speck  was  building  a  fire  and  making 
ready  for  the  night,  I  took  my  tackle,  walked 
down  to  the  river  and  caught  perch  enough  for 
supper  and  breakfast.  We  had  eaten  our  even 
ing  meal,  rolled  out  our  beds,  and  as  night  came 


on  realized  more  than  ever  that  we  were  "stran 
gers  in  a  strange  land."  Little  bands  of  Indians 
could  be  seen  crossing  the  country,  and  the  dead 
carcasses  of  buffalo  and  range  cattle  with  only  a 
steak  or  two  cut  from  the  back  were  proof  that 
paint  and  feathers  were  in  demand. 

Now,  an  Indian  is  all  Indian — there  is  no 
other  way  of  describing  him.  Those  we  met 
were  friendly  enough,  but  we  felt  better  without 
their  company. 

"  Somebody  coomin',"  said  Speck,  as  he  sprang 
to  his  feet,  clutching  at  me  as  he  rose. 

Turning  around  to  look  up  the  river  in  the 
direction  he  was  pointing,  I  saw  two  riders  ap 
proaching.  I  turned  back  onto  my  bed  and  ap 
peared  to  be  perfectly  at  ease,  telling  Speck  to  let 
them  do  the  talking. 

"  How  ?"  said  one  of  the  riders,  at  the  same 
time  dismounting  beside  our  wagon. 

"  Got  anything  t'  eat  ?"  asked  one  of  them. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "I  think  we  can  find  you  a 
little  something,"  at  the  same  time  getting  up 
and  going  to  the  wagon. 

"  Don't  put  yerself  out  any ;  jis'  give  us  a 
biscu't  an'  a  can  o'  tomaties  apiece,  an'  we'll  eat 
that.  We're  in  a  hurry  t'night,  an'  can't  stop 
long.  Whar  ye  goin'?" 

"  Taking  supplies  up  to  the  Meadows,"  I  re 
plied.  "How  far  is  it  from  here?" 

"  Oh,  I  guess  it's  'bout  forty  mile.  Ever  up 
this  way  b'fore?" 

"  No,  I  just  came  from  Texas.  I  wanted  to 
rest  a  few  days,  and  am  making  this  trip  to  see 
the  country."  This  was  a  story  made  from 

16 


whole  cloth,  but  as  I  did  not  know  who  I  was 
talking  to,  thought  that  best. 

"  Coin'  t'  work  fer  this  here  outfit  when  ye 
git  back?" 

"  No,  I  think  not.  I  want  to  go  up  on  the 
Platte.  When  I  left  Texas,  I  headed  north,  and 
think  I  will  keep  going."  This  was  story  num 
ber  two. 

"  Wall,  so-long,  boys,  we've  got  a  long  ride 
b'fore  us.  We're  goin'  'cross  t'  th'  South  Fork 
t'  meet  th'  roundup.  Come,  Peg,  we  mus'  be 
goin'.  So-long,  boys." 

As  they  turned  back  up  the  river,  I  kept  won 
dering  why  they  did  not  go  south  over  the  trail 
that  led  out  from  our  camp,  if  they  were  really 
going  to  South  Fork.  I  spoke  to  Speck  about 
this,  but  he  could  assign  no  reason,  so  I  told  him 
to  stay  at  camp,  and  I  would  follow  them  and 
see  where  they  turned  off.  I  walked  slowly 
along  the  trail,  perhaps  a  half  mile,  following 
them  as  closely  as  possible.  I  could  hear  them 
talking,  and  soon  discovered  there  were  three 
of  them,  and  that  they  were  driving  a  small  herd 
of  cattle. 

"  Who  wus  them  fellers,  Sim  ?"  came  a  voice 
I  had  not  heard  before. 

"  Wall,  sir,  Pete,  we're  mighty  r'lieved.  Jis' 
a  couple  o'  tenderfeet  takin'  supplies  up  t'  th' 
Medders.  Good  thing  we  got  out  o'  there, 
though;  they  might  o'  spicioned  somethin'  an' 
tol'  Ol'  Dan;  but  we're  all  right.  We'll  make 
it  over  t'  Cottonwood  gulch,  an'  have  th'  fresh 
uns  (meaning  cattle  they  had  rebranded)  hid 
away  down  th'  canyon,  an'  th'  butcherin'  done, 

17 


an'  th'  meat  't  th'  shop  b'  th'  time  they  reach 
th'  Medders." 

"An'  no  tracks  lef  uncovered,  either,"  re 
sponded  Peg. 

I  returned  to  camp  and  told  Speck  what  I 
had  heard,  that  I  intended  following  them,  and 
that  he  must  watch  camp. 

"  I  not  like  to  look  on  dees  camp.  I  peen  too 
oxcited.  Better  ve  both  go.  You  vill  mebbe 
need  some  help,  aind  it?" 

"  No,  I  will  get  along  all  right,  and  nothing 
will  harm  you.  Should  anyone  come  along,  just 
tell  them  that  old  Dan  is  with  you  and  will  be 
back  in  a  short  time." 

I  went  out,  caught  Muggins,  and  when  I  re 
turned  found  Speck  making  ready  to  go  with  me. 

"  Injuns  out  there,"  he  stammered  as  I  bade 
him  come  and  assist  me. 

I  looked  in  the  direction  he  was  pointing,  and 
a  few  rods  away  stood  a  big  black  steer  with 
horns  about  as  long  as  one's  arms,  pawing  up  the 
sand.  I  picked  up  a  rock  and  threw  at  him,  and 
he  went  galloping  away. 

"  Now,  Speck,"  said  I,  "no  more  Injun  busi 
ness  ;  stay  here  and  watch  camp.  Go  to  bed,  and 
tomorrow  put  in  the  time  shooting  wolves  if 
they  come  in  range,  but  be  careful  not  to  shoot 
any  of  our  horses  or  any  one's  cattle.  If  I  do 
not  get  back  till  tomorrow  night,  I  will  be  hum 
ming  that  Dutch  song  you  taught  me ;  so  be  care 
ful  not  to  point  your  Winchester  that  way." 

I  gave  Muggins  a  sandwich  with  some  sugar 
on  it,  and  started  south,  following  the  dim  trail. 
A  few  miles  out  from  the  river  the  trail  disap 
peared,  but  watching  the  stars  closely  I  pushed 

18 


on  in  the  direction  I  had  been  traveling.  Every 
howl  of  the  coyotes  startled  me,  every  strange 
noise  increased  my  fear,  but  I  had  no  thoughts 
of  turning  back.  I  had  dismounted  and  was 
hunting  for  the  trail,  when  the  neighing  of  a 
horse  caused  me  to  spring  back  into  the  saddle 
without  using  the  stirrup.  Muggins  answered, 
and  I  gave  him  a  severe  jerking.  Again  the 
horse  neighed,  and  Muggins  started  to  answer, 
and  quickened  his  pace.  I  kept  jerking  him,  as 
I  did  not  want  him  to  answer,  fearing  it  might  be 
one  of  the  cattle  thieves.  From  repeated  neighs 
I  knew  the  horse  was  coming  towards  me.  My 
first  thought  was  to  turn  and  run,  but  I  realized 
instantly  it  would  be  useless,  for  I  did  not  know 
the  country,  and  I  presumed  every  one  else  did. 
With  sixshooter  in  hand  I  stood  my  ground.  I 
had  not  long  to  wait — just  long  enough  for  my 
heart  to  get  up  into  my  throat — when  the  horse 
stopped  a  few  feet  from  me,  and  gave  a  whistle 
that  I  think  could  have  been  heard  a  mile.  I 
felt  relieved  when  I  saw  there  was  no  rider,  but 
a  wild  stallion  was  not  what  I  was  looking  for. 
He  gave  another  whistle,  circled  around  me,  then 
galloped  off  in  the  direction  from  whence  he 
came. 

"  What  a  fool  I  was,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I 
jogged  along,  reining  my  horse  a  little  to  the 
left.  I  grew  very  brave  after  I  saw  there  was 
no  danger. 

"What  does  this  mean,  Muggins?"  I  said, 
talking  aloud  to  my  horse,  for  we  had  been  going 
down  hill  for  a  couple  of  miles.  Muggins  did 
not  answer,  but  stopped  suddenly  and  refused  to 
go  on.  I  climbed  down  to  see  what  was  the  mat- 

19 


ter,  and  found  we  were  alongside  a  wire  fence. 
Knowing  I  could  learn  nothing  more  until  day 
light,  I  unsaddled  my  pony,  that  he  might  rest 
and  feed.  Using  my  saddle  for  a  pillow,  I 
stretched  out  on  the  grass,  and  was  soon  sound 
asleep  and  did  not  wake  until  six  o'clock  the 
next  morning. 


20 


CHAPTER  III. 

I  resolved  to  ride  up  the  creek  and  endeavor 
to  find  water  for  myself  and  pony,  then  make  a 
still  hunt  and  learn  what  I  could  about  the  in 
habitants  of  the  canyon.  I  had  not  gone  far 
when  I  came  in  sight  of  a  dugout,  almost  hidden 
by  a  clump  of  small  cottonwood  trees.  Com 
ing  to  a  gate,  I  opened  it  and  rode  down  to  the 
house.  While  the  pony  and  I  were  drinking  at 
the  spring,  a  slim,  dark  complexioned  fellgw  with 
piercing  black  eyes  came  out  of  the  dugout  and 
asked : 

"What  ye  doin'  in  hyah?" 

"  Not  harming  any  one,  I  hope,"  and  I 
reached  down  after  another  cup  of  water. 

"  Whar  ye  bin?    Whar'd  ye  come  from?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  been  lost,  and  was  al 
most  choked  for  a  drink,  and  am  very  hungry. 
Could  I  get  some  breakfast  ?" 

"Yas,  I  reckon  ye  kin,  if  ye'll  wait.  Th' 
wolves  stampeded  our  cattle  las'  night,  an'  th' 
other  boys  is  out  after  'em.  I  bin  waitin'  fer  'em 
t'  come,  an'  when  they  do,  we'll  hev  a  bite." 

I  staked  my  pony  as  he  directed,  and  followed 
him  into  the  dugout.  We  did  not  have  long  to 
wait,  for  almost  immediately  in  came  two  as 
tough  looking  characters  as  I  had  ever  seen. 
The  one  I  had  been  talking  to  explained  all  be 
fore  they  had  a  chance  to  say  a  word.  They 
nodded  to  each  other  and  began  to  eye  me 
closely.  The  larger  one  of  the  three  did  most 

21 


of  the  talking.  I  recognized  his  voice,  and 
knew  they  were  the  three  fellows  I  had  been 
following.  I  had  found  what  I  was  hunting 
for,  but  was  wishing  I  hadn't.  Growing  nervous 
under  their  gaze,  and  fearing  they  might  recog 
nize  my  voice,  I  went  back  to  the  spring,  for  I 
knew  they  would  not  let  me  go  without  further 
questioning.  I  was  soon  called  in,  however, 
and  we  all  sat  down  to  breakfast.  They  were 
as  hungry  as  I,  so  nothing  was  said  to  me,  and 
I  began  to  think  that  all  I  would  have  to  do 
would  be  to  get  up,  thank  them  and  ride  away. 
But  I  was  sadly  disappointed  in  this,  for  as  soon 
as  breakfast  was  over,  Sim  turned  facing  me, 
and  said: 

"  Now,  sir,  I  guess  we're  'bout  ready  t'  'tend 
t'  yer  case.  Bin  lost,  hev  ye?  Don't  know 
whar  ye  come  f'om,  ner  whar  ye're  goin'?  Wall, 
when  a  feller  comes  'long  hyar  what  don't  hev 
a  better  story  'an  that  ter  tell,  we  jis'  make  it 
our  business  to  see  'at  he  don't  interfere  too 
much  with  other  folkses'  ranches  an'  cattle. 
We're  peaceable,  law  'bidin'  men,  an'  ever' 

dam what  ever  come  hyar  pryin'  roun* 

has  stayed.  We've  got  a  private  boneyard  up 
hyar  on  th'  hill,  an'  we  reckoned  'while  ago 
when  ye  wus  out  thet  we'd  jis'  plant  ye  'long- 
side  o'  them  fellers  who'd  got  cur'us,  an'  come 
inside,  not  waitin'  fer  a  invitation." 

"You  have  the  water  all  fenced,"  I  repl'ed, 
"so  I  had  to  come  in  for  a  drink  and  to  water 
my  pony.  This,  I  understand  is  government 
land,  and  I  do  not  consider  that  I  am  a  tres 
passer.  You  have  certain  rights  that  the  public 

22 


must  respect,  but  since  I  have  not  harmed  you 
nor  your  stock,  I  shall  go  my  way." 

"  Not  jis'  yit,  stranger ;  we  'spect  ye'll  stay 
hyar  quite  'while.  Takin'  supplies  up  ter  th' 
Medders  ranch,  air  ye?  Wall,  then,  why  didn't 
ye  do  it?  Las'  night  after  we  lef  yer  wagon, 
I  jis'  'lowed  mebbe  one  o'  ye'd  try  follerin'  us, 
so  I  turned  back  an'  foun'  yer  Dutch  pardner 
alone.  He  tried  t'  tell  me  ol'  Dan  'ould  soon 
be  thar,  but  didn't  know  whar  ye  went?  Wall, 
th'  boy  '11  fin'  'is  bones  thar  by  th'  spring,  all 
picked  clean  by  th'  coyotes.  See  this  blood  on 
me  sixshooter?  I  didn't  want  ter  shoot  'im,  so  I 
jis'  mashed  'is  head,  an'  left  'im  by  th'  side  o' 
th'  wagon;  but  we'll  give  yer  carcass  a  decent 
burial.  Ye  see,  we  allers  hold  th'  funer'l  serv 
ices  afore  th'  grave  's  dug.  Kin  ye  sing  bass?" 

"  Not  at  my  own  funeral,"  I  replied,  somewhat 
amused  at  his  question. 

"  Then  ye'll  hev  t'  do  th'  prayin',  an'  jine  in 
th'  chorus.  Boys,  ye  kin  git  th'  rope,  an'  make 
ready.  He's  shore  a  spotter,  an'  we'll  jis'  plant 
'im." 

What  gave  me  courage  to  bear  up  under  the 
awful  strain  I  could  never  tell.  I  knew  I  could 
kill  one,  and  possibly  two  of  them,  but  three 
made  the  chance  too  great;  so  I  resolved  to  de 
lay,  matters  all  I  could,  with  the  hope  that  as 
sistance  might  reach  me.  But  this  did  not  seem 
probable,  so  when  Peg  and  Pete  left,  my  first 
thought  was  to  catch  my  man  off  his  guard,  kill 
him,  and  then  fight  the  other  two.  He  evidently 
read  my  thoughts,  for  there  he  sat,  sixshooter  in 
hand,  watching  me,  with  scarcely  a  wink  of  the 
eye  or  the  twitching  of  a  muscle.  The  rope  was 

23 


brought  and  I  was  told  to  march  in  front.  One 
of  them  reached  out  and  took  my  sixshooter,  and 
it  was  then  I  felt  that  all  was  lost.  When  we 
reached  the  spring  I  asked  if  I  might  get  a  drink 
of  water.  I  then  stepped  over  to  my  saddle,  took 
a  flask  of  brandy  from  my  canteen,  and  asked 
them  to  have  a  drink  with  me.  To  this  they 
readily  assented,  but  insisted  that  I  should  drink 
first.  I  did  so,  then  walked  to  where  my  pony 
was  standing  and  leaned  against  him  for  support. 
"  Good  licker,  boys,"  said  Pete,  as  he  wiped 
his  mouth  with  his  coat  sleeve. 

"  Yes,  an'  a  dam'  good  saddle  an'  pony. 
They're  to  be  my  pay  fer  helpin'  do  this  job," 
said  Peg,  and  he  came  closer  to  admire  the  outfit. 

"Wall,  now  I  reckon  I'll  have  somethin'  t' 
say,"  broke  in  Sim,  "when  I've  finished  this  bot 
tle.  Mighty  good  pizen,  kid.  Whar'd  ye  git  it?" 

"  Now,  look  here,  boys,"  said  I,  ignoring  his 
question.  "Do  you  realize  what  you  are  plan 
ning  to  do?  Must  my  life  be  taken  because  I 
came  into  your  pasture  to  get  a  drink?  Is  mur 
dering  men  in  cold  blood  a  part  of  your  daily 
vocation?  Show  me  where  I  have  done  wrong 
and  I  will  walk  bravely  to  yonder  tree  and  ad 
just  the  noose.  You  call  me  a  spotter.  Can 
you  prove  it?  Look  at  my  pony,  then  throw 
your  rope  aside.  I  am  not  pleading  for  mercy, 
but  if  you  are  men  and  not  cowards,  you  will 
give  back  my  sixshooter,  and  allow  me  to  go 
my  way.  If  it  is  a  fight  you  want,  one  at  a 
time,  and  we  will  have  it  out." 

Peg  had  looked  Muggins  over  carefully,  and 
when  he  spoke  his  words  gave  me  new  hope. 

24 


"  No  Three  Bar  'bout  this  hoss,  boys.  Come 
f'om  th'  Dowlin'  ranch,  down  on  Big  Smoky." 

"  Ain't  it  a  Three  Bar  hoss  ?"  asked  Sim. 

"  No,  I  tell  ye ;  he's  out  o'  th'  Dowlin'  herd. 
Whar'dye  git  'im?" 

"  Bought  him  out  of  a  herd  at  Wallace,"  I 
replied. 

"  Wall,  now  thar's  somethin'  strange  'bout 
this,"  said  Sim,  "but  I  b'lieve  in  bein'  on  th'  safe 
side,  an'  dead  men  don't  tell  no  tales.  Come  on 
hyah,  an'  no  more  o'  yer  back  talk,"  and  he 
struck  me  over  the  head  with  his  sixshooter,  the 
blow  knocking  me  down. 

When  I  regained  consciousness  I  was  stand 
ing  under  the  big  cottonwood  with  one  end  of  the 
rope  around  my  neck  and  the  other  over  a  limb. 
All  seemed  to  be  ready,  but  they  were  evidently 
waiting  for  me  to  recover  sufficiently  to  assist  in 
the  ceremonies.  Sim  was  doing  the  talking. 

"  Want  t'  send  any  message  t'  yer  fr'en's?" 

"  No." 

"  Want  t'  do  a  little  prayin'?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  in  the  presence  of  such  a  band 
of  cowardly  murderers  as  you  are." 

"Coin'  t'  die  brave  all  right,  ain't  'e,  boys? 
Thought  mebbe  he'd  show  th'  white  feather.  Kin 
ye  sing  bass  now,  'f  we  lead  off  on  some  ol' 
f'miliar  tune?" 

I  did  not  reply,  but  took  my  handkerchief  and 
was  wiping  the  blood  from  my  forehead  when 
he  gave  the  rope  a  jerk  that  nearly  lifted  me  off 
my  feet.  I  grabbed  for  the  rope  and  slacked 
the  noose  as  he  continued: 

"  Don't  be  too  pertic'lar,  kid ;  the  taste  uv  a 
little  blood  '11  make  ye  die  braver.  We'll  fix  yer 

25 


ban's  d'rec'ly.     Now  we're  goin'  to  sing,  an'  ye'll 
jine  in  er  up  ye  go  't  th'  end  o'  th'  first  verse." 
"Nearer  my  God  to—" 

He  dropped  the  rope,  threw  up  his  hands  and 
fell  forward.  Peg  dropped  beside  him.  Pete 
turned  to  run,  uttered  an  oath  and  fell  beside  an 
old  sod  corral.  I  had  thrown  the  rope  from  my 
neck,  grabbed  my  sixshooter  from  Sim,  which 
was  tightly  grasped  in  his  right  hand,  and  as  I 
looked  up  saw  Speck  coming  down  the  hill  wav 
ing  his  hand  and  shouting.  It  was  his  Win 
chester  that  had  joined  in  the  chorus. 


26 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Just  what  happened  the  next  few  moments 
neither  of  us  remembered,  but  I  felt  that  I  had 
really  sung  bass  at  my  own  funeral.  We  were 
soon  at  the  spring,  however,  washing  and  dress 
ing  our  wounds.  Speck  was  so  weak  from  loss 
of  blood  he  could  scarcely  stand,  but  the  sup  of 
brandy  left  in  the  flask  revived  him  greatly, 
and  we  went  into  the  dugout.  Then  he  sat  down 
upon  the  bed  and  began  talking  of  Indians.  I 
hid  his  Winchester,  fearing  he  might  take  me 
for  one,  and  from  what  I  had  just  witnessed  I 
did  not  care  to  stand  before  his  deadly  fire.  I 
gave  him  some  coffee,  broiled  him  a  beefsteak, 
and  finally  persuaded  him  to  lie  down  and  sleep. 
While  he  slept  he  kept  murmuring,  "Dan  vill 
coom  pack  once,  putty  soon  alretty.  I  don't  know 
vere  he  vent,  mebbe  mit  der  rountupe." 

What  to  do  I  did  not  know.  It  was  almost 
a  day's  ride  to  the  nearest  ranch,  and  I  could  not 
leave  Speck.  Poor  boy!  What  he  had  suf 
fered  I  would  probably  never  know.  When  he 
opened  his  eyes  I  spoke  to  him,  but  received  no 
sign  of  recognition.  He  closed  his  eyes  again, 
and  whispered  something  in  his  native  tongue, 
that  I  could  not  understand.  The  strain 
was  telling  on  me,  so  I  walked  out  to 
the  spring,  bathed  my  head,  and  sat  down  in  the 
shade  of  a  little  cottonwood.  As  I  wept  I  felt 
that  my  hair  was  turning  gray.  How  long  I 
lived  during  the  few  brief  moments  I  sat  there 

27 


I  will  never  know.  The  blood  was  still  flow 
ing  from  my  wound,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  would 
like  to  go  to  sleep,  never  again  to  awake  on 
the  horrible  scene  before  me.  Three  dead  bodies 
lay  near  where  I  sat,  and  I  had  but  little  hope 
for  poor  Speck,  who  had  followed  the  rustlers 
and  saved  my  life.  The  howl  of  a  coyote  aroused 
me  from  my  reverie,  and  after  bathing  my  head 
again  I  went  back  to  the  dugout.  With  silent 
tread  I  approached  the  bedside,  but  when  I  took 
Speck's  hand  he  awoke  and  sat  up.  There  was 
joy  in  that  old  dugout  when  he  recognized  me, 
and  our  sore  heads  bumped  together  in  a  long, 
fond  embrace.  He  wanted  to  tell  me  about  what 
had  happened,  but  I  bade  him  keep  quiet  until  I 
could  make  another  cup  of  coffee.  We  drank 
the  coffee,  ate  a  few  bites  and  together  walked 
down  to  the  spring.  I  left  him  there  and  went 
up  over  the  ridge,  cut  the  wire  and  brought  him 
his  horse.  I  then  took  a  spade  that  had  done 
similar  service  before,  went  up  back  of  the  dug 
out,  prepared  a  grave  for  three,  carried  lumber 
from  the  corral,  and  made  a  box  to  fit  it.  Mug 
gins  acted  as  pallbearer  and  the  three  unknown 
bodies  were  laid  away.  The  board  at  the  head 
of  their  grave  contained  but  four  words,  burnt 
with  a  branding  iron — "Sim,  Pete  and  Peg." 
Speck  and  I  then  took  up  the  long  journey  back- 
to  our  wagon,  but  instead  of  going  over  the  sand 
hills,  followed  down  the  little  creek.  At  the 
lower  end  of  the  pasture  there  were  a  number  of 
freshly  branded  cattle  and  a  few  horses,  so  we 
cut  the  wires  and  drove  them  down  to  the  river. 
Here  we  struck  the  trail,  and  although  quite 
dark,  finally  reached  our  camp  more  dead  than 

28 


alive.  The  medicine  box  was  brought  out,  our 
wounds  dressed,  the  beds  rolled  out,  and  we  lay 
down  to  sleep  and  dream  of  the  events  of  the 
past  twenty-four  hours,  the  most  thrilling  we 
had  ever  experienced.  We  did  not  awake  until 
quite  late  the  next  morning,  and  at  once  dis 
covered  that  all  our  horses,  save  the  two  we 
had  ridden  the  day  and  night  before,  had  wan 
dered  off.  After  breakfast  I  saddled  Muggins, 
made  him  a  sandwich,  mounted,  gave  him  the 
rein,  and  soon  came  up  with  our  cavey  on  their 
way  down  the  river  towards  the  home  ranch.  On 
the  way  back  to  camp,  I  shot  a  buffalo  calf,  so 
we  had  plenty  of  fresh  meat  during  the  time  we 
remained  at  the  spring.  Breaking  camp  early 
the  sixth  morning  since  we  left  the  home  ranch, 
we  drove  on  up  the  river.  We  reached  the 
Meadows  late  that  afternoon  and  were  given  a 
royal  welcome  by  the  three  men  we  found  there, 
for  they  had  seen  no  one  from  the  "outside"  for 
several  months;  and  besides,  we  had  brought 
them  a  fresh  supply  of  provisions. 

The  ranch  house,  stables  and  corrals  were 
good,  substantial  buildings.  The  horse  pasture, 
a  tract  four  by  six  miles,  was  enclosed  with  a 
three  wire  fence.  For  a  week  I  did  nothing 
but  take  notes  and  acquaint  myself  with  the  sur 
roundings,  and  obey  instructions  from  the  fore 
man  we  had  found  in  charge.  Speck  was  impa 
tient,  and  as  we  were  riding  out  one  morning  to 
look  over  the  hay  land,  asked : 

"Vy  dondt  you  fire  dot  feller?  I  dondt  like 
his  looks,  alretty  yet,  und  I  vish  you  send  him 
avay." 

29 


"  I  have  a  couple  more  trips  to  make  yet, 
Speck,"  I  replied,  "then  I  will  ask  Mr.  Fitzpatrick 
(the  boys  called  him  Fitz)  to  report  for  duty  at 
the  home  ranch." 

One  of  the  trips  was  west  to  the 
upper  water  holes.  Here  I  found  a  small 
band  of  Indians  who  were  short  on  talk  and 
tobacco,  but  long  on  war  paint  and  feathers. 
Through  an  interpreter,  a  beautiful  girl,  I 
promised  them  heap  muck-a-muck  when  they 
came  down  to  the  ranch,  and  after  dividing  my 
tobacco  and  giving  the  chief  my  pipe,  I  left  them, 
but  kept  wondering  who  the  girl  was  who  had 
done  the  talking  for  us.  A  few  days  later  I 
made  the  trip  back  to  Cottonwood  gulch.  When 
I  reached  the  bluff  where  I  could  see  the  gate 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  pasture,  I  quickly  ad 
justed  my  field  glasses  and  saw  Arkansaw  Bill 
drive  in  a  small  band  of  cattle,  close  the  gate  and 
turn  back  south.  When  Bill  had  disappeared  I 
rode  down  to  the  dugout,  going  through  the 
fence  where  I  had  cut  the  wire  that  eventful  day 
to  take  in  Speck's  horse.  I  made  a  search  about 
the  corral,  and  found  an  old  well  covered  with 
loose  boards  on  which  dirt  and  rocks  had  been 
thrown.  This  well  was  full  of  beef  hides,  the 
brands  having  been  cut  out  and  destroyed.  I 
knew  then  that  the  killing  of  other  people's  cat 
tle  was  the  chief  occupation  of  those  who  had 
lived  in  the  dugout,  and  knew,  too,  there  were 
others  besides  the  three  who  were  sleeping  across 
the  gulch  back  of  the  spring.  After  watering  my 
horse  I  rode  down  the  creek  to  the  river  and 
camped  for  the  night.  I  returned  to  the  Meadows 
the  next  day,  going  around  the  pasture  and  com- 

30 


ing  in  from  the  south,  as  I  did  not  want  Fitz  to 
know  where  I  had  been.  I  had  suspected  for 
several  days  that  he  was  one  of  the  gang. 

"Whar'd  yer  pardner  go,  Speck?"  asked 
Fitz,  as  soon  as  I  had  left  the  ranch. 

"  I  tink  he  vent  over  mit  der  rountupe." 

"How  long  '11  'ebe  gone?" 

"  Oh,  youst  a  coople  of  tays,  I  dunno,  aind 
it." 

"  Say,  I  noticed  a  big  gash  on  th'  side  uv  'is 
head,  longer'n  my  finger,  an'  th'  skin  on  yore 
head's  in  strips  like  a  hide  'ith  th'  bran's  cut 
out.  What  've  you  fellers  bin  up  ag'inst?" 

"  Veil,  pefore  ve  schtardt  upe  here,  ve  all  go 
town  to  Binkleman's  mit  der  dancehouse,  vonce, 
und  ve  go  in  mit  der  cyclone  I  dunno,  und  der 
poys  from  der  Blatte  dry  t'  do  us  upe.  Veil,  ve 
knock  der  sixshooters  avay  mit  our  heads,  und 
drag  'em  out.  Mebbe  ven  you  not  like  dot  head 
alretty,  you  know  vat  to  do  mit  it." 

The  boys  laughed,  more,  I  think,  at  Speck's 
brogue  than  at  the  fun  we  were  supposed  to  have 
had  at  the  dance  house. 

When  I  returned  I  found  the  boys  still  amus 
ing  themselves  at  Speck's  expense,  and  of  course 
he  was  glad  I  had  come. 

"  You  fire  dot  feller,  right  avay  qu'vick,  I 
dunno,  aind  it." 

"  I  shall  give  him  Dan's  letter  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  presume  he  will  leave  at  once  for  the 
lower  ranch." 

"  Bresume,  ees  it.     Von't  you  make  him  go  ?" 

I  merely  nodded  my  head,  for  we  were  near- 
ing  the  house,  so  we  joined  the  boys  at  the  sup 
per  table,  and  all  went  well  till  morning. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"Mr.  Fitzpatrick,"  I  said,  taking  the  letter 
from  my  pocket,  "here  is  a  communication  from 
Dan.  You  may  read  it  aloud  that  the  boys  may 
know  that  I  am  to  take  charge  of  the  ranch 
here." 

He  read  the  letter,  turned  and  stuck  it  in  the 
stove.  His  face  grew  red,  and  gripping  his  six- 
shooter  with  one  hand  and  pointing  at  me  with 
the  other,  said : 

"  Thet  letter  don't  cut  no  ice  'ith  me.  You're 
on'y  a  tenderfoot,  an'  I'm  not  goin'.  No  man 
kin  discharge  me  till  he  pays  me,  an'  I  got  four 
months'  wages  due  me  now.  You,  sir,  kin  go 
t'  hell  ef  you  want  t',  but  I'm  goin'  t'  stay  right 
here." 

"  I  do  not  understand  that  you  are  discharged, 
but  you  can  take  Buckskin  and  Mike,  the  two 
horses  you  have  been  riding  since  we  came  up 
here,  and  go  down  below.  If  there  is  anything 
due  you,  Dan  will  settle  it." 

He  grew  furious,  and  the  language  he  used 
would  not  look  well  in  print.  After  he  had  ex 
hausted  his  supply  of  choice  oaths,  and  seeing 
there  was  no  use  trying  to  persuade  him,  I  again 
told  him  what  horses  he  might  take  and  told  him 
to  go,  in  language  he  could  not  misunderstand.  I 
then  turned  to  the  two  boys  I  had  found  there 
with  him  and  asked  if  they  would  remain  or  if 
they  wanted  to  go  with  Fitz.  Tex  said  he  would 
be  glad  to  stay,  but  Siwash  looked  defiant,  and  as 

32 


he  walked  across  the  room,  said :  "Fitz  ain't  gone 
yit." 

"  Not  yet,  but  he  is  going,"  I  replied,  "and 
you  had  better  go  with  him.  We  will  try  and 
get  along  without  you.  You  may  roll  up  your 
bed,  take  your  own  pony  and  report  to  Dan  at 
the  home  ranch.  I  want  no  trouble  with  either 
of  you,  but  want  you  both  to  gather  up  your 
personal  belongings.  I  will  have  Tex  and  Speck 
drive  in  the  horses." 

They  went  out  to  the  corral,  held  a  long  con 
ference,  then  came  back  and  commenced  to  get 
ready  for  the  trip. 

"  We've  c'ncluded  t'  go  an'  not  have  no 
trouble  'bout  this  matter,"  said  Fitz.  "Want  t' 
sen'  any  word  down  t'  th'  boys?" 

"  Nothing  special,"  and  I  sat  down  to  make 
a  note  of  what  they  were  packing  up. 

Their  change  of  mind  and  cheerfulness  had 
made  me  suspicious  of  them.  It  was  only  a 
few  moments,  however,  until  all  was  ready  and 
they  rode  away. 

I  found  Tex  one  of  the  most  companionable 
fellows  I  had  ever  met.  Well  educated,  a  per 
fect  gentleman  at  all  times,  with  but  one  fault 
I  could  discover — he  would  gamble. 

"  My  father,"  said  he,  "is  the  cattle  king  of 
Texas,  and  has  staked  me  several  times,  but  it 
all  went  at  poker  and  three  card  monte.  Last 
spring  I  got  in  with  the  drive  and  came  up  the 
trail.  I  resolved  to  stop  gambling,  but  I  didn't 
do  it,  and  when  the  cattle  were  delivered  on  the 
West  Beaver  range  I  was  broke.  I  started  north, 
and  finally  fell  in  with  a  little  band  of  Indians 
and  lived  with  them  up  to  about  two  months  ago, 

33 


when  I  left  them  and  came  down  here.  I  think 
they  are  camped  at  the  upper  water  holes  yet, 
and  I  would  give  five  years  of  my  life  for  an  op 
portunity  to  win  my  pony,  saddle  and  sixshooter 
back  from  them.  I  think  it  was  along  about 
the  holidays  that  they  commenced  to  celebrate, 
and  about  the  same  time  I  commenced  to  win 
from  them  at  poker.  In  a  few  days  I  owned 
everything  in  the  village — ponies,  blankets,  sad 
dles,  guns  and  all.  Then  I  commenced  to  lose, 
and  they  won  everything  back  and  all  I  had  with 
it.  I  might  never  have  known  how  it  happened, 
if  a  girl  there  had  not  told  me.  She  is  a  white 
girl,  and  of  course  does  not  like  Indian  ways. 
They  call  her  Blue  Eye.  She  has  often  begged 
me  to  take  her  away.  She  fears  the  old  chief 
will  elect  to  marry  her,  and  she  says  she  will 
die  before  she  will  live  longer  with  the  Indians 
and  lead  the  life  they  do.  But  no  girl  for  me. 
I  couldn't  settle  down  if  I  tried.  My  pony  and 
saddle  is  all  I  want.  Will  you  go  up  there  with 
me  some  day?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  return  with  me,  and  promise 
not  to  gamble  with  them." 

"  But  I  can  beat  them  at  their  own  game. 
You  see  it  was  like  this :  A  young  buck  knows 
this  girl  thinks  more  of  me  than  she  does  of  him, 
so  he  resolved  to  break  me.  He  would  not  play, 
but  would  'peep'  and  make  signs  to  the  other 
players.  Then  at  times  he  would  slip  cards. 
Well,  the  other  players  would  fill,  I  would  flush, 
and  you  know  the  rest." 

"Yes,  but  I  would  like  to  know  what  has 
been  going  on  here  at  the  ranch." 

34 


"  Well,  sir,  a  little  of  everything  except  my 
salary.  I  have  been  here  about  six  weeks,  and 
worked  hard  up  to  the  time  you  came,  but  no 
pay.  Haven't  had  a  smoke  for  a  month.  I 
had  no  money,  no  horse,  so  what  was  I  to  do  but 
stay  here  with  this  band  of  thieves." 

I  made  no  reply,  but  went  out  to  the  store 
room  back  of  the  kitchen  where  we  kept  our 
supplies  and  got  him  a  package  of  tobacco. 
"  When  that  is  gone  let  me  know  and  you  shall 
have  another  supply.  I  didn't  bring  very  much 
with  me,  but  we  will  both  have  plenty  as  long 
as  it  lasts."  He  took  the  tobacco,  and  continued : 

"  It's  the  worst  den  I  ever  saw.  Only  about 
a  week  ago  three  fellows  left  here  with  a  band 
of  cattle  that  had  been  thrown  into  the  pasture 
and  rebranded.  Now  I  am  not  telling  tales,  but 
simply  facts,  and  you  will  see  plenty  to  convince 
you  of  this  if  you  will  only  look  around  the 
ranch." 

"  Who  were  those  fellows  who  took  the  cattle 
away  you  spoke  of?" 

"  Mexican  Pete,  Old  Sim  and  Peg  Leg.  I 
do  not  know  any  other  names  for  them.  They 
are  desperate  characters,  and  if  you  ever  go  up 
against  them  do  business  at  once,  for  they  all 
boast  of  a  record  of  a  half  dozen  men." 

"  What  had  Fitz  and  Siwash  to  do  with  those 
cattle?  Do  you  suspect  them  of  being  members 
of  the  gang?" 

"  Yes,  and  there  is  another  fellow  they  call 
Arkansaw  Bill.  Their  ranch  is  down  the  river 
somewhere.  Cattle  they  can't  well  rebrand  they 
butcher,  and  sell  to  dealers  down  in  the  settle 
ment."  . 

35 


"Are  there  any  cattle  about  the  ranch  now 
that  these  fellows  claim?" 

"A  few.     Do  you  want  to  see  them?" 

"  Yes.  Tomorrow  we  will  take  a  ride  around 
the  pasture  and  turn  everything  outside,  for  all 
stock  must  be  kept  out  until  the  hay  is  cut." 

I  gave  Tex  five  silver  dollars,  told  him  his 
time  would  begin  at  once  and  that  I  would  pay 
him  forty-five  dollars  a  month,  all  of  which 
pleased  him  very  much. 

"  I'll  have  my  pony,  saddle  and  sixshooter  in 
side  of  a  week,  Speck,  now  just  you  watch  me,"  I 
heard  him  say  as  they  walked  out  toward  the 
corral. 

"  But  you  said  you  vouldn't  gamble  some 
more  alretty,  aind  it." 

"  Yes,  but  I've  got  to  have  another  game  with 
those  Indians,  and  I'll  skin  them  alive,  too.  They 
can't  queer  me,  and  to  show  you  that  I  am  all 
right,  I'll  bet  you  five  that  I  beat  them.  I'm  a 
gambler,  and  a  good  one." 

But  Speck  had  mounted  his  horse  and  was 
riding  out  across  the  pasture,  singing,  "Ther'll 
be  razors  a  flyin'  in  the  air,"  which  he  had  trans 
lated  into  German. 

We  rode  the  pasture  the  next  day,  but  the 
only  traces  we  found  of  the  cattle  Tex  had  told 
me  about  was  a  place  where  the  wire  had  been 
cut.  We  knew  Fitz  and  Siwash  had  done  this, 
drove  the  cattle  out,  and  had  probably  taken 
them  down  the  river  to  the  ranch  in  Cottonwood 
gulch. 

"  Mebbe  dem  poys  coom  pack  vonce  yet/' 
said  Speck. 

36 


"Not  alone,"  said  Tex.  "Fitz  and  Siwash 
are  bluffers.  They  might  shoot  a  fellow  in  the 
back,  but  would  never  pull  a  gun  on  a  man  who 
was  facing  them.  The  other  fellows  will  take 
care  of  themselves,  and  you  had  better  not  corner 
one  of  them  unless  you  are  looking  for  trouble." 

"Tree  of  dem  are  mit  der  angels,  now  al- 
retty  yet,  aindt  it,  Kid?" 

But  I  shut  Speck  off  with  a  frown. 

"How's  that,  Speck?"  asked  Tex. 

I  knew  by  the  look  Tex  gave  me  that  the 
remark  had  aroused  his  suspicion. 

"  Never  mind,  boys,"  said  I,  and  I  at  once 
began  to  make  plans  for  the  morrow. 


37 


CHAPTER  VI. 

We  had  heard  nothing  of  Fitz  and  Si  wash 
since  they  left  the  ranch,  nor  had  any  one  else 
that  we  knew  of.  The  news  of  the  killing  of 
two  men  at  the  springs  over  on  the  Arickaree 
and  the  disappearance  of  the  three  men  from 
Cottonwood  gulch  had  reached  the  roundup  on 
the  Republican.  How  this  news  was  carried 
across  the  country  we  never  knew.  Tobe  had 
heard  the  instructions  given  Speck  and  I  when 
we  started  to  the  upper  ranch,  so  when  the  news 
of  the  murder  on  the  Arickaree  reached  him  he 
begged  the  foreman  to  allow  him  to  go  over  there 
and  investigate.  About  the  time  Tobe  started, 
Dan  had  heard  the  news,  and  left  the  home 
ranch,  riding  up  the  river,  while  Tobe  was  com 
ing  across  the  divide  from  the  Republican,  and 
would  reach  the  springs  on  the  Arickaree,  where 
the  men  were  reported  killed,  about  the  same 
time.  It  was  getting  quite  dark  when  Dan  halted 
at  the  springs,  but  he  imagined  he  saw  two  riders 
leave,  going  towards  the  Meadows.  He  was 
just  dipping  up  a  drink  when  Tobe  rode  up. 
Each  had  his  sixshooter  in  hand,  and  although 
looking  for  dead  men,  were  also  on  the  lookout 
for  live  ones. 

"  Have  you  any  particular  business  here,  sir  ?" 

"Fer  th'   Lord's  sake,  Dan,   don't  shoot;   I 

guess  we're  both  on  th'   same   erran'.    Nig  an' 

Dandy    (meaning  his  horses)  air  mighty  dry  an' 

I'm  nearly  choked." 

38 


No  further  explanation  was  necessary,  and 
after  groping  about  the  springs  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  they  started  up  the  river. 

"  I  think  there  are  two  men  ahead  of  us,  Tobe, 
so  be  on  your  guard.  If  those  boys  I  sent  up 
here  have  stirred  the  animals  up,  something  is 
liable  to  happen,  and  we  might  run  into  some 
Indians,  too." 

Tobe's  only  reply  was,  "Yas,  I  understan'," 
and  for  several  miles  they  rode  on  in  silence. 
Each  had  brought  two  horses.  They  would  rick 
one  a  few  miles  and  lead  the  other,  then  change. 

"  We  ought  t'  reach  th'  ranch  'n  time  fer 
breakfas',  hadn't  we,  Dan?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  but  my  horses  are  getting 
leg  weary,  and  we  may  have  to  stop  and  rest 
them.  I  always  dread  this  ride ;  there  is  so  much 
sand.  Come  on  and  we  will  spur  up  a  little,  for 
I  want  to  see  what  that  is  ahead  of  us.  I  think 
I  saw  the  sparks  from  a  horse's  shoe  a  moment 
ago." 

On  they  galloped,  their  horses'  feet  making 
no  noise  in  the  sand,  save  an  occasional  clank  of 
their  shoes. 

"  There's  some  one  follerin'  us,  Dan ;  I  kin 
hear  th'  heavy  breathin'  uv  'is  hoss." 

"  No,  they  are  in  front  of  us,  I  tell  you ;  there, 
didn't  you  see  the  fire  again  from  their  horses' 
shoes?" 

They  stopped  to  change  horses,  and  the  rider 
who  had  been  following  them  pulled  out  of  the 
trail  a  few  rods,  and  rode  on  at  full  speed.  They 
mounted  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  started  on 
after  him. 

39 


"Arkansaw  Bill  fer  shore.  Now,  there's 
somethin'  bringin'  him  up  hyar,  Dan,  an'  I'd  jis' 
like  t'  know  what  't  is." 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Do  you  think  it 
possible  that  he  is  one  of  that  gang  of  notorious 
thieves  that  have  been  working  their  graft  on 
the  cattle  men  of  this  country?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Th'  kid  don't  like  'im,  an' 
tol'  me  th'  day  he  started  up  hyar  thet  Bill  wus 
a  bad  man,  an'  'e  b'lieved  'e  was  dishones'.  I 
always  liked  'im,  though,  'cept  when  drunk,  but 
he's  bin  'way  f'om  th'  roundup  'bout  half  th' 
time  sence  we  started  out.  He  come  in  a  couple 
o'  mornin's  ago  an'  'is  hosses  wus  wet  like  'e  'd 
swum  th'  river  with  'em.  He  come  t'  my  wagon 
fer  breakfas',  an'  when  I  asked  where  he'd  bin 
he  tol'  me  'twas  none  o'  my  dam  business.  Tug 
says  some  one  'as  bin  throwin'  strays  inter  th' 
roundup,  an'  he  b'lieves  it  's  Bill." 

Dan's  mind  seemed  to  be  at  work,  for  he 
made  no  reply.  On  they  rode,  with  nothing  to 
break  the  stillness  except  the  clank  of  their 
horses'  shoes  and  the  howl  of  the  coyotes. 

"  Hold  on  there,  Tobe,  you  will  run  my  horses 
into  the  wire.  Here  is  the  corner  of  the  pas 
ture." 

"  Shore  'nuff.  One  more  heat,  an'  then 
some  breakfas'.  All  day  'n  night  ride  'ith  on'y 
a  snack  t'  eat— hear  thet?" 

"  Yes.  Hurry  now,  let's  see  who  did  the 
shooting." 

A  faint  light  was  visible  in  the  east,  but  it 
was  yet  so  dark  one  could  only  see  objects  a 
few  rods  away. 

40 


"  Come  on,  Tobe,"  Dan  kept  saying,  "we 
must  reach  the  ranch  before  those  fellows  do. 
The  boys  up  there  might  need  us." 

"I'm  comin'  as  fas'  's  I—"  Just  then  his 
horse  stepped  into  a  badger  hole,  turned  a  somer 
sault,  throwing  Tobe  into  the  wire  fence. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Tobe?"  asked  Dan,  as  he 
jumped  from  his  horse  and  ran  to  help  him  up. 

"  Don't  min'  me ;  look  after  Nig." 

There  lay  the  poor  horse  with  his  head 
doubled  back  under  his  body  and  one  front  leg 
broken  near  the  shoulder.  They  helped  him  up, 
but  he  staggered  and  fell  against  the  wire  fence. 

"  Pore  Nig !  Pore  Nig !"  was  all  Tobe  could 
say.  He  slacked  the  cinches  of  the  saddle,  sat 
down,  lifted  the  horse's  head  into  his  lap  and 
patted  him  gently  on  the  neck. 

"  Come,  Tobe,  we  must  shoot  the  horse  and 
go  on.  Why,  man,  your  left  arm  is  cut  nearly 
off,  and  you  are  bleeding  to  death !" 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  hurt  much.  Let  me  hoi'  Nig's 
head;  mebbe  it  '11  r'lieve  'is  sufferin's  some.  Ts 
neck's  kinked,  too,  fer  'e  can't  straighten  't  out." 

"  Here,  now,  let  me  bind  your  arm  and 
shoulder ;  cut  clear  to  the  bone.  Now  shoot  Nig 
and  we  will  go  on ;  we  can't  save  him,  so  we  will 
not  leave  him  to  be  eaten  alive  by  the  wolves." 

"Me  shoot  that  hoss?  No!  I'll  stay  hyar 
an'  keep  th'  wolves  away,  but  I'll  never  kill  'im. 
I  couldn'  do  it  'f  I  tried." 

"  Then  get  up  and  walk  away.  It  pains  me 
to  do  it,  but  since  you  refuse  I  will  have  to,  and 
the  quicker  it  is  done  the  sooner  his  sufferings 
will  end." 


Tobe  bent  over,  kissed  the  horse  on  the  neck, 
took  off  the  bridle  and  walked  away.  Dan  placed 
his  sixshooter  within  a  few  inches  of  the  horse's 
head  and  fired,  killing  him  instantly.  Tobe 
walked  back  to  the  horse,  lifted  his  head  into 
his  lap,  again  patted  the  dead  animal  on  the  neck, 
and  wept  like  a  child. 

"Pore  Nig!  Pore  Nig!  I  '11  come  back 
an'  bury  you,  my  pony.  Good-bye,  ol'  Nigger 
Boy.  No  better  hoss  ever  lived  'an  you!" 

Dan  turned  his  head  away  and  wiped  his 
eyes.  He  took  Tobe  by  the  arm,  led  him  over 
to  where  his  horse  Dandy  was  standing,  and  as 
sisted  him  to  cinch  the  saddle  and  mount. 

"  I'll  come  back  an'  bury  you,  Nig,"  said 
Tobe,  as  they  rode  away,  which  he  did  a  few 
days  later. 

"  I  think  I  saw  two  riders  pass  us  a  few  mo 
ments  ago,  Tobe,  going  back  down  the  river." 

"  Fer  God's  sake,  men,  come  an'  git  me,  I'm 
dyin'." 

A  few  feet  from  the  trail,  his  horse  standing 
near  him,  lay  Siwash,  shot  through  the  left  breast 
just  above  the  heart. 

"  Oh,  f er  a  drink  o'  water !  Take  me  t'  th' 
ranch,  boys,  's  quick  's  ye  kin.  I'm  done  fer, 
but  I  want  t'  see  th'  boys  'fore  I  go." 

They  helped  him  into  the  saddle,  supporting 
him  as  he  rode.  I  had  just  gotten  up,  when 
Speck  came  rushing  in  from  the  corral,  so  ex 
cited  he  could  scarcely  tell  me  what  was  the 
matter. 

"  Tree  men  comin'  upe  der  trail,  alretty.  Look 
at  'em  kevick.  I  tink  it's  Fritz  und  Siwash,  und 
dey  do  us  upe  aind  it." 

42 


I  took  my  field  glasses,  but  it  was  not  light 
enough  to  see  well.  I  waited  a  few  moments, 
and  when  I  looked  again  could  recgonize  Dan 
and  Tobe. 

"  Take  a  cup  of  water  and  run  out  and  meet 
them,  Speck,"  said  I ;  "it's  Dan  and  Tobe.  They 
have  a  sick  man  with  them  and  are  holding  him 
on  his  horse.  Hurry,  now;  run  as  fast  as  you 
can." 

Speck  ran  to  meet  them  and  handed  Siwash 
the  cup  of  water.  He  drank  it  and  said : 

"  Thanks,  Speck.  You've  perlonged  m'  life 
a  little.  Take  me  t'  th'  house,  boys,  's  quick  's 
ye  kin,  I  want  t'  lay  down." 

Dan  and  Tobe  were  so  overjoyed  to  find 
Speck  and  I  safe  that  the}-  forgot  Siwash  for  a 
moment,  and  we  had  to  carry  the  wounded  man 
into  the  house  ourselves.  We  laid  him  on  the 
bed  and  gave  him  another  drink.  Then  I  took 
a  pan  of  water  and  began  bathing  his  face,  but 
he  pushed  me  back. 

"  It's  no  use,  I'm  done  fer.  They  shot  me 
in  th'  back.  But  three  of  'em  won't  steal  no 
more.  Fitz  an'  I  went  down  t'  th'  ranch,  dug 
int'  th'  grave  an'  foun'  Sim  an'  Peg  an'  Pete. 
Bill  come  over,  so  Fitz  an'  him  'lowed  th'  Kid 
an'  Speck  killed  'em,  so  started  back  up  here  t' 
do  'em  up.  At  th'  spring  we  heared  you  fellers 
comin',  so  we  sep'rated  an'  Bill  follered.  I  guess 
ye  saw  'im  ride  'roun'  ye,  an'  then  'e  come  up 
t'  us.  I  tol'  'im  I  'lowed  I'd  had  'nough  o' 
their  kin'  o'  life,  an'  one  uv  'em  shot  me  in  th' 
back,  an'  I'm  done  fer.  They'll  git  th'  boys  here 
ef  they  don't  stan'  guard  fer  'em.  Yer  boss  ye 
sent  up  here  's  all  right.  He  wanted  me  t'  stay 

43 


here  at  th'  ranch,  an'  I  ben  wishin'  I  had,  but  it's 
too  late  now.  They  talked  t'  me  'bout  gittin' 
rich  quick.  I  went  wrong,  an'  am  payin'  th' 
penalty." 

"Do  you  want  to  send  any  word  to  your 
parents?"  asked  Dan. 

"Yes.  There's  a  letter  from  mother  in  m' 
coat.  Jis'  tell  her  th'  Injuns  got  me,  so  she 
won't  know  I  disgraced  th'  fam'ly." 

We  watched  with  him  until  the  summons 
came,  then  layed  him  to  rest  in  the  corner  of  the 
pasture,  near  the  ranch  house. 

"  Too  bad,"  said  Tex.  "He  was  a  good  boy 
till  those  fellows  led  him  astray." 

Dan  remained  with  us  a  couple  of  days,  then 
returned  to  the  home  ranch. 

"  Watch  the  hay  lands  closely,  and  put  up 
every  ton  of  hay  you  can,"  were  the  instructions 
given  us  when  he  was  ready  to  go. 

"  Tobe,  you  can  remain  here  a  couple  of 
weeks,  or  until  your  arm  and  shoulder  are  well, 
then  come  down  to  the  home  ranch." 


44 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  Now,  I  don't  want  to  worry  you,  but  I  must 
have  my  horse,  saddle  and  sixshooter." 

I  turned,  and  there  was  Tex,  who  looked  as 
if  he  was  suffering  more  on  account  of  the  delay 
in  visiting  the  Indian  village  again  than  Tobe 
was  with  his  sore  arm. 

"You  see,"  he  continued,  "those  Indians  are 
liable  to  move  any  time,  and  you  can  never  tell 
where  they've  gone.  Can't  you  and  I  go  up 
there  tomorrow  ?  I  want  to  see  them  before  they 
leave  the  creek." 

"  Yes,  we  will  go  up  and  see  them  tomorrow, 
but  not  to  gamble.  I  will  buy  your  horse  and 
saddle  of  them  and  we  will  return  home.  Do 
you  want  to  bring  Blue  Eye  home  with  you, 
too?" 

"  No,  but  I  do  want  my  pony.  That's  his 
name,  you  know,  'Pony/  and  he'll  come  to  me 
as  far  as  he  can  hear  me  call  him." 

Tex  was  up  bright  and  early  next  morning, 
brought  in  the  horses,  then  came  in  and  got 
breakfast. 

"  It's  all  ready  to  happen,  boys,  and  you'll 
have  to  crawl  out,"  said  he,  and  he  closed  the 
door  and  commenced  to  sing: 

"  Come    all    you    Texas    rangers, 

Wherever  you  may  be, 
And  a  story  I  will  tell  you 
That  happened  unto  me." 

45 


"  Hey  dere,  Tex,  vait  a  vile  und  I  go  out  mit 
a  crooked  shtick,  und  turn  dot  tune  vonce  alretty." 

"  To  hell  with  you,  Speck,  there's  no  music  in 
your  soul." 

"  Nor  some  Plue  Eye  Skivaws  mit  my  head, 
I  dunno,  aind  it?" 

"  She's  my  sweetheart,  don't  you  know,"  and 
he  took  Speck  by  the  arm  to  show  him  how 
Texas  coons  do  the  cake  walk. 

"  Now,  Tex,"  said  I,  as  we  rode  away,  "I 
have  brought  several  packages  of  tobacco,  a  pipe 
for  Chief  Gray  Wolf,  and  a  new  silk  handker 
chief  for  his  best  squaw.  We  will  deal  fairly 
with  those  Indians  so  they  can  have  no  griev 
ance." 

"  Very  well,"  was  his  only  reply. 

He  had  grown  serious,  and  try  as  I  would,  I 
could  not  get  him  to  talk.  When  asked  why  he 
was  so  quiet,  he  replied : 

"  I  want  time  to  think  it  over.  You  can 
never  tell  about  Indians.  If  they're  hungry, 
they're  mean ;  if  they've  had  a  big  feed,  they're  all 
right.  I  may  be  running  you  up  against  it,  and 
if  you  would  rather  you  can  return  and  I  will 
go  it  alone." 

We  rode  on  a  few  miles,  when  he  suddenly 
caught  me  by  the  arm  with  one  hand,  and  point 
ing  ahead  with  the  other,  said: 

"  Look  there.  You  will  see  something  you 
probably  never  saw  before.  A  big  black  eagle 
chasing  an  antelope." 

It  was  indeed  a  strange  sight  to  me.  On 
they  came,  the  eagle  trying  to  fasten  its  claws 
into  the  back  of  its  prey,  and  the  antelope  run 
ning  and  dodging  for  dear  life.  For  half  an 


hour  the  chase  continued.  Over  the  sand  hills, 
then  down  into  the  valley,  at  times  passing  within 
a  few  yards  of  us. 

"  I  will  kill  the  antelope  if  they  come  in  range 
again/'  said  I,  "for  they  are  both  nearly  tired 
out.  I  don't  enjoy  such  a  chase  as  that  is  now." 

"  You  won't  have  a  chance ;  it's  all  off  with 
the  antelope  now.  Come,  let's  ride  up  there." 

We  galloped  up  to  the  top  of  a  little  sand  hill, 
and  there  lay  the  antelope,  dead,  with  the  eagle's 
claws  firmly  fastened  in  its  back.  Tex  jumped 
from  his  pony  and  ran  up  to  them  with  his  six- 
shooter  in  hand,  but  I  called  to  him  not  to  shoot 
the  eagle.  The  great  bird  backed  away  a  few 
feet  and  watched  Tex  cut  the  antelope  in  two 
and  ride  off  with  the  hind  quarters. 

"  There  is  more  than  he  can  eat,  and  this  will 
make  the  Indians  a  big  feed.  We  may  need  a 
little  fresh  meat  in  our  business." 

I  said  nothing  to  Tex  about  my  plans,  but 
had  made  up  my  mind  to  rescue  Blue  Eye,  for  I 
felt  sure  she  was  Tobe's  sister.  While  wonder 
ing  what  mood  the  Indians  were  really  in,  and 
how  we  were  to  get  the  girl  away,  Tex  startled 
me  by  saying: 

"  See  the  village !  Watch  those  bucks  circle 
around.  I  believe  they've  got  their  war  paint 
on.  Shall  we  take  the  chance?" 

"Yes;  we  started  out  to  trade  a  little  with 
them,  and  we  are  going  to  do  it;  that  is,  with 
their  permission." 

"Shall  we  take  Blue  Eye  home  with  us?" 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  but  be  careful  what  you  say.  If  the 
girl  knows  you  are  her  friend,  let  her  know  that 

47 


I  am  also.  You  can  do  this  by  a  nod  of  the 
head,  and  the  Indians  may  not  suspect  that  we 
intend  to  take  her." 

We  rode  up  to  Chief  Gray  Wolf's  lodge  and 
dismounted,  but  he  did  not  receive  us  as  warmly 
as  we  had  hoped  he  would.  The  sight  of  the 
meat  and  tobacco  we  had  brought  secured  us  an 
audience,  however,  and  he  at  once  became  talka 
tive.  A  wave  of  his  hand  and  a  few  grunts 
quieted  the  young  braves.  The  antelope  was 
roasted,  and  all  who  enjoyed  his  confidence  or 
belonged  to  the  "Smart  Set"  surely  had  a  big 
feed.  The  meat  was  torn  into  long  strips  and 
eaten,  much  as  a  cow  eats  a  bunch  of  grass. 
Meat  was  a  great  delicacy  with  them,  for  their 
ammunition  was  almost  gone  and  the  hunters 
would  only  shoot  at  close  range.  Blue  Eye  ate 
a  little  and  enjoyed  it,  for  she  told  me  later  she 
was  nearly  starved.  I  could  see  at  once  that 
they  were  suspicious  of  Tex,  so  I  kept  watching 
him,  fearing  he  would  get  too  anxious  and  say 
or  do  something  that  would  spoil  our  plans. 

Blue  Eye  would  look  at  me  and  then  at  Tex, 
but  I  kept  shaking  my  head  at  her.  When  the 
last  bone  was  picked  I  gave  the  chief  and  his 
council  a  fresh  supply  of  tobacco.  There  were 
about  a  dozen  to  smoke  and  only  four  pipes,  so 
Tex  and  I  had  to  pass  our  pipes  around  and  smoke 
when  our  turns  came.  They  all  seemed  friendly 
enough,  but  watched  every  move  we  made.  They 
wanted  our  sixshooters,  saddles,  hats,  tobacco, 
pipes,  everything  we  had  which  they  did  not  pos 
sess,  so  we  commenced  trading.  First  was  the  pony, 
saddle  and  sixshooter  belonging  to  Tex.  I  gave 
them  two  dollars  in  cash,  three  ten  cent  packages 

48 


of  tobacco,  the  two  pipes  they  had  been  smoking, 
and  the  red  silk  handkerchief.  Blue  Eye  sat  on 
the  ground  near  me.  Without  looking  up  I 
asked  her  in  French  how  soon  she  would  be 
ready  to  go,  but  she  did  not  understand;  so, 
while  trying  to  trade  for  some  Navajo  blankets, 
I  asked  her  again  in  German. 

"  Two  seconds,"  came  the  reply.  It  was  now 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Tex  had 
saddled  his  pony  and  stood  holding  our  horses. 
We  were  going  to  buy  the  girl  if  we  could,  but 
take  her  we  would,  for  who  with  a  speck  of  man 
hood  could  leave  such  a  beautiful  girl  with  a 
band  of  dirty  Sioux  Indians?  The  horses  ready, 
I  got  up  as  if  to  go,  and  it  was  then  the  girl  came 
near  getting  us  into  trouble. 

"  Fearing  we  were  not  going  to  take  her/' 
was  the  only  explanation  she  could  give.  I  left 
Tex  with  the  horses  and  walked  out  through  the 
village,  waiting  for  her  to  put  herself  right  with 
the  old  chief,  for  he  had  understood  her  when 
she  called  to  me  and  made  a  move  to  follow. 

"  I  forgot  my  Dutch,  too,"  she  said,  when  I 
came  within  hearing. 

I  wandered  back  to  the  chief's  headquarters 
and  began  bargaining  for  the  girl.  At  first  he 
only  answered  me  with  grunts,  so  I  called  the  girl 
to  assist.  The  deal  was  closed,  we  giving  him  all 
the  money  we  had,  Tex  handing  over  his  five  dol 
lars,  our  pocket  knives  and  watches.  Then  Tex 
wanted  a  game,  but  the  look  I  gave  him  shut  off 
further  poker  talk. 

"  Let's  go  quick,"  said  Blue  Eye,  again  for 
getting  her  Dutch.  "There'll  be  trouble- here  in 
a  minute." 

49 


Just  as  we  turned  to  go  a  big  buck  who  had 
been  watching  the  proceedings  made  a  lunge  for 
the  girl,  but  a  tap  on  the  side  of  the  head  from 
my  sixshooter  sent  him  sprawling  backward  in 
the  grass,  and  away  we  went  down  the  river, 
with  half  a  hundred  yelling  Indians  and  as  many 
howling  dogs  after  us.  Those  who  started  on 
foot  soon  gave  up  the  chase,  for  we  were  going 
like  the  wind;  but  their  ponies  were  hurriedly 
run  in,  and  before  we  were  out  of  sight  of  the 
village  we  could  see  fifteen  or  twenty  bucks 
mount  their  horses  and  take  after  us. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  those  fellows,  Blue 
Eye?"  I  asked.  "Didn't  we  buy  you  from 
them?" 

"Yes,  from  the  old  chief,  but  not  from  the 
rest  of  the  tribe.  Gray  Wolf  is  probably  a  'good 
Indian'  by  this  time,  for  I  am  sure  they  were  go 
ing  to  kill  him;  but  I  belong  to  you.  Come, 
pony,  come,"  she  said  to  her  horse,  and  the  pony 
responded  by  pushing  up  into  the  lead. 

"  Don't  urge  him  too  hard,  Blue  Eye,"  said 
Tex.  "He  is  not  as  strong  as  our  horses,  and 
may  give  out  with  you." 

"You  will  have  to  trade  with  me  if  he  does. 
Come,  pony,  come." 

Tex  and  I  had  slowed  up  a  little,  but  on  she 
went,  with  her  hair  and  blanket  which  she  wore 
over  her  shoulders,  flying  straight  out  behind.  I 
took  the  empty  sixshooter  we  had  traded  for, 
loaded  it,  took  a  dozen  cartridges  from  my 
pocket,  and  placed  them  in  the  belt;  then  push 
ing  up  past  Tex,  I  overtook  Blue  Eye  and  per 
suaded  her  to  slow  up  a  little. 

50 


"  We  have  better  horses  than  the  Indians,  and 
on  a  straight  run  they  can  never  catch  us.  Here/' 
said  I,  handing  her  the  sixshooter,  "should  we 
lose  each  other  in  the  sand  hills  before  we  reach 
the  ranch,  you  will  have  something  to  defend 
yourself  with." 

"  To  kill  myself  if  they  capture  me,"  she  re 
plied,  as  she  pulled  down  the  flying  blanket  and 
buckled  the  belt  around  her  waist.  "Come,  pony, 
come,"  and  on  she  went. 


51 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

At  dusk  we  reached  a  small  pool  of  water  and 
stopped  for  a  moment  to  let  the  horses  drink  and 
to  take  a  sup  ourselves,  for  it  was  very  warm  and 
we  were  all  thirsty.  I  had  brought  a  little  lunch 
with  me,  which  I  unpacked;  we  all  ate  a  bite, 
took  another  drink  and  started  on. 

"  Boys,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "you  are  strangers  to 
me,  but  I  feel  that  we  ought  to  return  thanks.  I 
haven't  eaten  anything  for  an  age  that  tasted  as 
good  as  that  sandwich  you  gave  me.  Come, 
pony —  Look  there !  Oh !  save  me  from  those 
red  devils !  They  will  kill  us  sure !" 

We  stopped  our  horses,  for  there  only  a  few 
rods  ahead  of  us  was  a  small  band  of  Indians 
coming  up  the  river. 

"  Don't  get  excited,"  said  I ;  "they  don't  act 
as  if  they  would  harm  us." 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  will.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
the  whole  Sioux  and  Cheyenne  tribes  go  on  the 
warpath  tomorrow.  Quick,  we  must  get  away 
from  here." 

We  turned  south  through  the  sand  hills,  urg 
ing  our  horses  to  their  utmost  speed.  We  saw 
the  Indians  leave  the  river  and  knew  they  in 
tended  to  head  us  off,  but  they  soon  fell  behind. 
We  had  outridden  them  for  the  first  few  mo 
ments,  but  now  they  were  gaining  on  us.  There 
were  about  twenty  in  the  band,  but  from  their 
yells  one  would  have  thought  there  was  a  hun 
dred. 

52 


"  Damn  this  country,  anyway,"  said  Tex. 
"It's  down  one  hill  and  up  two." 

And  it  seemed  so,  for  our  horses  were  weak 
ening.  When  about  four  miles  from  the  river 
they  opened  fire  on  us,  and  it  was  then  I  felt  the 
first  sting  of  a  bullet.  I  thought  my  left  arm 
was  blown  off,  but  afterward  discovered  it  was 
only  a  flesh  wound,  and  that  I  was  not  hurt 
much  after  all.  We  did  not  return  the  fire,  but 
urged  our  horses  to  greater  efforts,  hoping  to 
tire  out  their  horses  and  make  our  escape;  but 
this  we  could  not  do,  and  our  case  began  to  look 
hopeless. 

"  We  will  have  to  stop  and  fight  it  out  with 
them,"  said  Blue  Eye.  "Pony  is  done  for." 

We  had  reached  the  top  of  a  sand  hill,  where 
we  quickly  dismounted  and  led  our  horses  down 
into  a  blowout.  The  Indians,  thinking  we  had 
gone  down  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side,  rushed 
on  us.  It  was  too  dark  to  shoot  accurately,  but 
we  kept  well  down  behind  the  bank,  and,  as  Tex 
put  it,  "Poured  cold  lead  into  them  as  fast  as  we 
could  pull  trigger."  They  retreated;  that  is  a 
majority  of  them  did,  and  all  was  quiet  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  Believe  they  have  quit  us,"  said  Tex,  as  he 
climbed  up  on  the  bank  to  look  about. 

"Don't  you  believe  it,"  said  Blue  Eye.  "An 
Indian  who  will  fight  at  all  never  quits  as  long  as 
there  is  any  fight  left  in  him,  and  dead  Indians 
are  the  only  ones  that  won't  fight." 

It  had  now  grown  quite  dark,  but  at  times 
we  could  hear  the  tread  of  their  horses. 

"  They  are  riding  in  a  circle  around  this 
blowout,"  said  Blue  Eye. 

53 


We  soon  discovered  she  was  right,  and  that 
at  each  round  they  seemed  to  be  coming  a  little 
nearer.  We  were  pretty  well  protected,  how 
ever,  being  on  top  of  the  hill.  The  blowout  was 
eight  or  ten  feet  deep,  with  nearly  perpendicular 
walls,  from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  wide,  and  about 
forty  feet  long. 

Blue  Eye  was  silent  for  some  time;  then, 
coming  over  so  she  could  whisper  to  me,  said : 

"  They  are  guarding  us,  riding  round  and 
round.  I  think  there  are  ten  or  twelve  of  them, 
and  if  we  do  not  get  out  of  here  before  daylight, 
they  will  kill  us  sure." 

"You  stay  here  and  be  perfectly  still.  Tex 
and  I  will  crawl  out  and  investigate  a  little,  and 
then  decide  what  to  do.  Now  remember,  Blue 
Eye,  stay  here  until  we  return." 

My  arm  was  paining  me  and  I  was  weak  from 
loss  of  blood,  but  there  was  no  time  to  dress 
wounds.  I  watched  the  Indians  as  they  rode 
round  and  round  the  hill,  keeping  from  twenty 
to  thirty  rods  from  the  blowout.  I  had  returned 
to  within  a  few  feet  of  our  hiding  place,  Tex  hav 
ing  gone  in  an  opposite  direction,  when  I  heard 
a  couple  of  shots  and  knew  at  once  he  had  gone 
too  near  the  guard  line.  He  came  running  back, 
and  as  he  rolled  down  into  the  blowout  said 
there  was  one  good  Indian  on  duty  out  there, 
and  possibly  two,  and  that  we  would  have  to  sure 
fight  it  out  with  them  now.  He  added  that  it  had 
to  come,  so  he  thought  he  would  take  the  first 
fall  out  of  them,  and  got  the  one  riding  the  big 
gray  horse,  the  fellow  who  shot  me  in  the  arm. 

But  Indians  are  like  flies,  two  come  to  take 
the  place  of  every  one  killed.  They  would  rush 

54 


up  near  the  blowout,  fire  and  retreat,  then  charge 
from  the  other  side.  This  they  kept  up  for  about 
an  hour,  when  we  judged  from  the  yells  that  at 
least  half  their  number  had  given  up  the  fight. 
It  had  grown  darker  and  darker  and  commenced 
to  rain. 

"  Come,  now,"  said  I,  "we  must  get  out  of 
here.  I  think  they  have  gone  north,  so  we  will 
go  east  and  endeavor  to  reach  the  ranch." 

"  Come  and  help  me  mount,"  said  Tex,  "I'm 
shot  through  the  breast." 

"Poor  boy!"  said  Blue  Eye.  "I'm  awfully 
sorry.  I  wish  we  were  some  place  where  I  could 
dress  your  wound.  You  boys  have  surely  made 
a  good  fight." 

"You  helped  some,  too,  didn't  you?"  I  re 
marked,  as  I  assisted  Tex  up  out  of  the  blowout. 

"  Yes,  what  I  could,  and  I  haven't  a  cartridge 
left." 

I  reloaded  her  sixshooter  and  we  started  in 
what  we  thought  was  an  easterly  direction.  We 
rode  slowly  for  a  few  moments,  having  gone  per 
haps  a  hundred  yards,  when  the  Indians  charged 
the  blowout,  riding  boldly  up  to  the  very  top  of 
the  hill,  but  we  weren't  there.  A  flash  of  light 
ning  revealed  our  presence,  however,  and  down 
they  came.  The  ground  was  too  full  of  holes  to 
ride  very  fast,  and  they  were  firing  as  they  came. 
Blue  Eye's  horse  was  killed,  but  in  an  instant  she 
was  up  behind  me,  holding  onto  me  with  one 
hand  and  firing  back  at  them  with  the  other. 
After  a  running  fight  of  perhaps  a  mile,  in  which 
Tex  and  I  joined  occasionally,  we  stopped  shoot 
ing  and  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  hoping  to  reach 
the  river.  Our  pursuers  rode  on  easterly,  and 

55 


there  were  only  three  or  four  of  them  left.  Al 
though  we  did  not  know  where  we  were  going, 
we  did  not  care  much,  provided  they  would  keep 
on  in  an  opposite  direction.  We  had  ridden  eight 
or  ten  miles  since  we  made  our  turn.  The  clouds 
had  broken  and  the  moon  came  up,  not  in  the 
east  but  in  the  southwest.  We  were  all  sure  of 
that. 

"  Ever  see  the  moon  rise  there  ?"  asked  Tex,  as 
he  dismounted  and  threw  himself  on  the  ground. 
Realizing  we  were  lost  and  had  been  riding  away 
from  the  ranch  seemed  to  discourage  him. 

"  Go  on  and  leave  me,"  said  he.  "If  you  get 
to  the  ranch  just  tell  the  boys  I  put  up  a  good 
fight." 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Blue  Eye.  "And  to 
think  it  was  all  on  my  account." 

"  There,  now,"  said  Tex,  "no  more  of  that. 
If  I  was  sure  you  would  escape  I  would  die  with 
out  a  murmur.  There,  that  is  better,"  he  said  to 
me  as  I  raised  his  head  so  it  would  rest  on  my 
knee. 

"  Oh,  for  a  drink  of  water !  Can't  you  get 
me  a  drink?  It's  daylight  now,  for  I  can  see  the 
sun.  Yes,  the  morning  is  coming.  She  is  shoot 
ing  sunbeams  at  the  disappearing  night.  See! 
See !  She  is  gathering  the  stars  and  hiding  them 
in  her  bosom,  and  will  not  release  them  until 
darkness  has  come  again.  Look  out !  Look  out ! 
Here  they  come."  And  he  fired  a  shot  at  the 
moon,  which  was  shining  brightly  on  his  face. 

"  Oh !  for  a  drink.  I  will  die  of  thirst.  Can't 
I  have  a  drink?" 

But  we  could  make  no  reply.  We  would  have 
gladly  given  all  we  possessed  for  a  cup  of  water 

56 


for  him,  but  none  was  to  be  had.  It  is  sad  enough 
to  sit  by  the  side  of  a  dying  friend  when  one  has 
done  something  to  relieve  his  suffering,  but  to 
watch  with  one  begging  and  pleading  as  he  did 
is  an  experience  I  hope  to  never  have  again. 

"  It's  evening  of  a  dark  day  here,  but  morn 
ing  of  a  bright  and  glorious  day  over  there.  Oh ! 
if  the  light  of  the  morning  will  only  last  forever. 
A  cup  of  water.  Just  a  sup.  Please  give  me  a 
drink." 

I  closed  his  eyes  and  walked  over  to  the  girl, 
who  was  weeping  as  though  her  heart  would 
break,  for  she  knew  the  end  had  come.  She  arose 
as  I  approached  her,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  we 
walked  back  and  knelt  by  the  side  of  our  dead 
friend.  I  could  think  of  but  one  thing  to  do,  and 
that  was  to  tie  the  body  onto  his  horse,  old  Buck, 
and  make  another  effort  to  get  out  of  the  hills. 
Wolves  were  coming  closer  and  closer,  and  it 
would  not  do  to  shoot  them,  lest  the  Indians 
might  again  find  us.  We  had  scarcely  started 
before  a  pack  of  those  hungry  monsters,  not 
coyotes,  but  big  grays,  ran  to  the  spot  where  the 
body  had  lain,  and  fought  and  howled,  as  they 
smelled  the  blood. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me  ?"  said  the  girl, 
as  I  started  to  follow  old  Buck,  who  seemed  to 
be  going  in  the  wrong  direction  with  Tex's  body 

"  That  horse  knows  more  about  these  hills 
than  you  or  I,  and  we  are  going  to  follow  him,'' 
I  replied. 

"  Perhaps  he  does.  I'm  sorry  I  spoke  so 
rudely.  Forgive  me,  won't  you?" 

"  Certainly ;  but  please  keep  quiet." 

57 


The  next  two  or  three  hours  were,  I  think,  the 
most  dreary  and  trying  of  any  I  ever  experienced. 
I  was  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  wet  to  the  skin, 
and,  as  I  thought,  dying  of  hunger  and  thirst. 
After  the  wolves  quit  following  us,  we  walked 
to  rest  the  horse.  Muggins  was  getting  leg  weary 
and  I  wanted  to  save  him  all  I  could,  so  we 
trudged  on.  Would  we  ever  find  water?  We 
could  talk  of  nothing  else.  I  ran  my  hand  into 
one  of  the  pockets  of  my  canteenas  to  get  some 
cartridges  to  refill  my  belt,  and  found  some  sand 
wiches.  I  gave  one  to  Blue  Eye,  but  neither  of 
us  could  eat,  so  I  put  them  back.  Were  you  ever 
so  thirsty  you  could  not  eat?  If  so,  you  know 
how  we  suffered. 

A  faint  light  began  to  show  in  the  east.  This 
gave  us  hope,  for  I  knew  we  were  traveling  in 
the  right  direction,  but  how  far  it  was  to  the 
river  I  did  not  know.  The  word  river  may  seem 
out  of  place,  but  in  those  days  we  called  it  a 
river,  even  though  it  was  sixty  miles  to  running 
water.  Here  and  there  were  only  small  pools, 
or  holes  of  water,  and  in  some  instances  these 
were  many  miles  apart.  The  sun  was  about  an 
hour  high  when  we  came  to  one  of  them.  We 
lay  down  upon  the  sand  and  drank,  and  drank, 
and  drank. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I  unsaddled  Muggins  and  turned  him  out  to 
graze  awhile,  for  we  were  too  tired  to  go  on.  I 
had  three  sandwiches  left,  so  we  each  ate  one, 
and  I  gave  the  other  to  the  horse.  He  had  car 
ried  both  of  us  nearly  all  night,  and  I  felt  he  had 
earned  part  of  the  lunch.  We  took  another  drink, 
then  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  little  sand  hill  and 
sat  down.  From  there  we  could  see  over  the 
entire  valley,  and  as  we  did  not  want  to  be  caught 
by  the  Indians,  kept  a  close  watch  of  every  mov 
ing  thing. 

"  How  far  do  you  think  it  is  to  the  ranch 
where  you  are  taking  me  ?"  said  Blue  Eye,  as  she 
moved  around  so  she  faced  me.  "I  want  to  sit 
so  I  can  see  in  the  opposite  direction.  The  In 
dians  might  slip  up  behind  us.  What  do  you 
see  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Nothing  startling,  but  if  you  will  keep  watch 
I  will  go  over  there  and  see  what  that  buzzard 
has  found." 

I  did  so,  and  there  lay  the  remains  of  the  half 
of  the  antelope  Tex  and  I  had  left  the  day  before. 
I  could  scarcely  wait  to  tell  the  girl  the  good 
news,  for  I  now  knew  where  we  were,  and  that 
we  would  soon  be  at  the  ranch.  I  started  back, 
but  she  knew  I  was  pleased  with  the  discovery, 
and  came  down  the  hill  to  meet  me. 

"  In  three  hours,  Blue  Eye,  you  will  see  a 
very  dear  friend.  Let's  go  back  to  the  top  of  the 

59 


hill  and  rest  a  few  moments  longer  while  Mug 
gins  feeds." 

"  What  did  you  mean  ?  Who  will  I  see — 
Tobe?  No,  it  can't  be  him.  He's  dead.  Did 
you  ever  know  anyone  by  the  name  of  Tobe 
Tobias?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  know  where  he  is  now." 

Knowing  the  Indians  had  come  up  the  river 
the  day  before,  I  feared  the  boys  at  the  ranch 
might  have  been  killed  or  driven  away  and  the 
ranch  house  burned,  so  I  thought  best  not  to  tell 
her  anything  about  her  brother. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  "tell  me  who  you  are  and  how 
long  you  have  been  with  the  Indians." 

"  Well,  now  who  am  I  ?  I  wish  you  might 
tell  me.  I'm  called  Blue  Eye,  but  my  name  is 
Nellie  Tobias.  I  was  born  on  the  old  farm  down 
in  Kentucky  eighteen  years  ago.  My  eldest 
brother,  Tobe,  came  west  about  five  years  ago, 
and  when  we  decided  to  come  he  wrote  us  to 
ship  to  Kit  Carson  and  he  would  meet  us  there, 
but  he  never  came.  Perhaps  he  did  not  get  our 
letter.  We  arrived  there  a  year  ago  last  Septem 
ber,  and  waited  a  week  for  the  car  which  con 
tained  our  household  effects  and  a  couple  of 
wagons.  We  knew  that  Tobe  was  on  the  Arick- 
aree  river  somewhere,  so  father  bought  a  couple 
of  teams  at  the  Barteld's  ranch  and  we  started  on 
the  long  journey  overland.  We  reached  the  south 
fork  of  the  Republican,  and  were  camped  near 
the  Tuttle  ranch  when  the  Indians  captured  us, 
killing  my  father  and  younger  brother,  and  carry 
ing  my  sister,  mother  and  myself  away.  Where 
they  took  us  we  never  knew.  My  sister  Nora 
only  lived  a  few  weeks,  and  my  mother  died  about 

60 


four  months  ago.  I  had  just  returned  from  her 
grave  when  you  boys  came  yesterday.  God  alone 
knows  what  I  have  suffered — dragged  about  from 
place  to  place,  half  starved  a  greater  part  of  the 
time,  and  nearly  killed  by  exposure.  I  have  often 
tried  to  escape,  but  always  got  caught.  I  have 
seen  a  dozen  white  men,  perhaps,  since  I  was 
captured,  but  none  who  I  thought  would  treat  me 
as  a  girl  should  be  treated,  except,  of  course,  you 
and  Tex.  I  could  have  fallen  in  love  with  that 
boy;  but  oh!  such  a  gambler.  A  true  southern 
gentleman,  a  little  slow  to  act,  but  he  kept  his 
promise  to  help  me  away.  Poor  boy!  I'm  so 
sorry  he  was  killed  on  my  account.  Since  my 
mother  died  I  have  feared  I  would  go  insane. 
During  all  those  long,  weary  months  we  were 
never  out  of  each  other's  sight.  We  had  a  sep 
arate  tepee,  and  the  Indians  never  came  about  us, 
except  when  the  old  chief  and  one  of  his  wives 
came  with  him.  Since  my  mother  was  taken 
away  an  old  squaw  has  lived  with  me." 

"  Glad  to  get  away,  then  ?"  said  I,  in  an  effort 
to  cheer  her  up,  for  I  could  see  she  was  about  to 
break  down. 

"  I  certainly  was,  and  if  I  had  gotten  hold  of 
you  when  you  were  at  the  village  a  few  days  ago 
I  would  have  choked  you." 

"Yes?" 

"  Yes,  because  you  made  no  effort  to  get  me 
away." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  wanted  to  leave  the  In 
dians  till  Tex  told  me,  and  you  know  the  rest." 

"  Yes,  and  I  owe  my  life  to  you.  Tex  didn't 
know  how  to  plan,  and  was  too  slow  to  act  if  he 
had  known.  Even  yesterday  he  wanted  to  play 

61 


cards  with  those  Indians,  and  they  going  on  the 
warpath  after  one  more  sleep.  Oh!  I  pity  the 
whites  now,  for  the  Sioux  and  the  Cheyennes, 
two  of  the  most  treacherous  tribes  of  American 
Indians  when  donned  out  with  war  paint  and 
feathers,  have  sworn  vengeance  against  them." 

"  You  may  finish  the  story  some  other  time, 
Blue  Eye,  for  we  will  now  start  down  the  river 
and  endeavor  to  reach  the  ranch.  If  the  Indians 
have  killed  the  boys  and  burned  the  buildings,  we 
will  try  to  get  fresh  horses  and  go  on.  I  hope 
you  won't  get  discouraged,  for  I  feel  we  will  find 
friends  down  the  river  somewhere." 

Muggins  was  tired,  so  we  walked  and  led  him 
three  or  four  miles.  We  then  mounted,  but  had 
ridden  only  a  short  distance  when  we  rounded  a 
slight  bend  in  the  river  and  came  in  sight  of  the 
ranch.  The  horse  saw  the  buildings  as  soon  as 
we,  neighed  loudly,  and  broke  into  a  long,  swing 
ing  gallop. 

The  hundred  miles  or  more  we  had  ridden  him 
the  past  twenty-eight  hours,  carrying  double  part 
of  the  time,  as  he  was  now  doing,  had  told  on  him, 
but  there  was  a  good  long  ride  left  in  him  yet. 
He  never  slacked  his  pace  until  we  dismounted  at 
the  pasture  gate,  a  few  yards  from  the  house. 

Old  Buck  had  reached  the  ranch  with  his  dead 
•rider  several  hours  ahead  of  us,  and  the  boys 
were  watching  for  me  as  well  as  for  Indians. 

Tobe  and  Speck  came  running  out  to  meet  us. 
I  reached  out  to  shake  hands  with  them,  then 
turning,  introduced  Tobe  to  his  sister. 

It  was  several  seconds  before  they  recognized 
each  other  or  realized  who  the  other  was,  for  they 
had  long  since  mourned  each  other  as  dead. 

62 


"Blue  Eye,  my  sister?" 

"Tobe,  is  it  you?" 

Well,  I  just  joined  in  the  fond  embrace  and 
mingled  my  tears  with  theirs.  Speck  looked  on  in 
silence  for  a  few  moments,  then  turned  to  go  back 
to  the  house.  He  did  not  seem  to  realize  that 
brother  and  sister  had  met  after  a  separation  of 
many  years,  and  could  not  share  their  joy  at  that 
time. 

"  Glad  to  see  us,  aren't  you,  Speck  ?"  I  said  to 
him  a  few  moments  later. 

"  Veil,  yas,  I  tink  I  vas.  I  pin  somepody's 
darling,  too,  vonce  alretty,  und  ve  not  make  out 
some  boo  hoo  like  dot,  I  dunno,"  and  he  led  Mug 
gins  away  and  turned  him  out. 

The  sight  of  Tex's  body  as  we  entered  the 
house  brought  back  the  horrors  of  the  night  be 
fore.  As  soon  as  we  could  we  told  Tobe  and 
Speck  of  our  wild  ride,  the  hiding  place  in  the 
blowout,  and  how  bravely  poor  Tex  had  fought. 

Speck  had  stepped  out  into  the  yard  to  brush 
away  the  tears,  but  soon  came  in  and  reached  for 
his  Winchester. 

"  Injuns !  Injuns !  Dey  vas  coomin'  mit  der 
ranch.  Kevick,  und  ve  got  ter  make  der  velcome 
diser'greeble,  aind  it?" 

We  looked  out  and  could  see  a  small  band  of 
Indians  about  half  a  mile  away.  They  had 
stopped  and  were  evidently  holding  a  council  of 
war,  so  we  barred  the  doors  and  prepared  to 
defend  ourselves.  With  the  glasses  I  could  see 
they  were  painted,  and  knew  that  murder  was  in 
their  hearts. 

The  ranch  buildings  were  located  in  the  north 
west  corner  of  the  pasture,  and  we  knew  they 

63 


could  not  approach  us  except  from  the  north  and 
west.  For  an  hour  or  more  we  waited  for  an  at 
tack.  They  rode  to  the  north  and  then  turned 
back,  making  a  half  circle,  from  the  fence  east  of 
us  to  the  fence  south.  Each  round  they  came  a 
little  nearer,  riding  down  on  the  further  side  of 
their  ponies,  with  their  heads  low  enough  to  look 
under  the  animals'  necks.  We  saw  other  Indians 
come  down  the  river  and  join  them.  Each  round 
they  came  closer  and  closer.  Their  chief,  decked 
out  with  great  strings  of  beads  and  feathers,  and 
riding  a  fine,  big  roan  horse,  charged  up  to  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  us,  slapped  himself  on  the 
breast,  then  turned  and  rode  away.  Speck  grew 
furious,  and  Blue  Eye  was  as  anxious  as  Speck 
to  take  a  shot  at  him. 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  said  I,  "you  may  need 
your  cartridges  before  this  is  over.  There  are  at 
least  fifty  of  them  and  but  four  of  us.  Let  them 
fire  first,  and  I  will  then  tell  you  when  to  shoot." 

We  had  not  long  to  wait.  Even  while  I  was 
admonishing  them  to  be  patient  a  bullet  came 
crashing  through  the  window.  No  one  was  hurt, 
but  for  the  next  hour  the  yelling  of  that  band  of 
Indians  was  frightful. 

The  north  and  west  walls  of  the  house  were 
built  of  sod,  so  we  had  nothing  to  fear  except 
when  looking  out  through  the  window.  I  had 
watched  their  actions  as  closely  as  possible  from 
the  window  on  the  west  side  of  the  house,  and 
was  hoping  they  would  use  up  all  their  ammuni 
tion  at  long  range ;  but  not  so.  They  came  closer 
and  closer,  and  were  only  about  sixty  yards  from 
us  when  we  opened  fire  on  them.  I  saw  the  big 
chief  fall  from  his  horse,  but  in  an  instant  another 

64 


Indian  had  mounted  the  big  roan,  leaving  his  own 
pony  to  gallop  away  across  the  sand  hills.  After 
a  round  or  two  Speck  went  out,  and  standing  at 
the  corner  of  the  house  worked  his  Winchester  to 
his  heart's  content. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  what  was  left  of  that 
treacherous  band  rode  away,  going  south  through 
the  sand  hills,  taking  the  wounded,  but  leaving  a 
dozen  good  Indians  behind. 

"  I  neffer  feel  so  goot  since  der  mornin'  in  der 
Cottinvood  gulch,  I  dunno,"  remarked  Speck,  as 
he  came  in  and  commenced  cleaning  his  rifle. 

"  Enjoy  the  fight,  Speck?"  asked  Blue  Eye. 

"Yessum.  I  feel  goot  alvays  sometimes,  I 
dunno,  ven  I  kill  some  dogs,  aind  it?  Vill  dey 
coom  pack  some  more  alretty  yet?" 

"  I  think  not.  They  will  probably  go  on  south 
and  join  the  main  band  on  the  Big  Sandy.  Do 
you  know  where  that  is  ?  Oh,  Speck !  There  is 
that  big  roan  horse.  See  if  you  can  catch  him  for 
me.  Look!  He  is  coming  towards  the  ranch." 

Speck  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  as  he  came 
leading  the  animal  up  to  the  house,  said : 

"  Plue  Eye,  I  make  you  some  bresents  mit  dot 
hoss  und  saddles." 

"  Thank  you,  Speck.    You  are  a  good  boy." 

Tobe  and  I  had  taken  a  sup  of  brandy,  then 
prepared  the  noonday  meal  and  called  Speck  and 
Blue  Eye. 

"Why,  Tobe,  can  you  cook?  You  couldn't 
boil  water  without  burning  the  kettle  when  I 
knew  you  last,"  and  Tobe  looked  at  his  sister  as 
if  he  wanted  to  reprimand  her. 

65 


"  Never  min'  now,  jis'  start  right  in,  an'  if 
thar's  not  'nough  here  we'll  git  more.  Ain't  had 
a  square  meal  lately,  hev  ye?" 

"  No,  but  I  had  forgotten  all  about  being  hun 
gry  lately;  there  has  been  too  much  worry  and 
excitement." 

After  our  appetites  were  satisfied  I  enjoyed  a 
smoke,  then  lay  down  for  an  hour's  sleep  and 
rest. 

"  We're  ready  t'  bury  Tex  now,"  said  Tobe, 
as  he  woke  me,  "an'  thought  ye'd  like  t'  be  pres 
ent." 

I  got  up,  changed  my  clothes,  had  Blue  Eye 
re-bind  my  sore  arm,  and  when  all  was  ready  the 
girl  read  a  chapter  from  the  little  testament  she 
had  carried  all  those  weary  months  she  had  been 
a  prisoner  of  the  Indians.  She  then  led  the  way 
across  the  river,  we  following  with  the  body.  She 
read  another  chapter,  and  Tex  (we  knew  no  other 
name  for  him)  was  laid  to  rest. 

Tobe  and  Speck  then  went  out  and  buried  the 
Indians  that  had  been  killed  in  the  fight. 


66 


CHAPTER  X. 

We  decided  that  the  climate  was  more  health 
ful  down  at  the  home  ranch,  and  at  once  loaded 
all  our  valuables  into  three  wagons,  rounded  up 
the  horses,  and  the  next  morning  bade  good 
bye  to  scenes  about  the  Meadows. 

The  trip  was  made  without  incident,  we  reach 
ing  home  about  noon  the  third  day.  They  were 
all  glad  to  see  us,  but  had  heard  nothing  of  the 
Indian  uprising. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Dan,  as  he 
came  out  to  meet  us.  "Altitude  too  high  up 
there?" 

When  I  had  explained  briefly  what  had  hap 
pened  he  nearly  shook  my  arm  off. 

"  God  bless  you,"  said  he.  "I  am  glad  you  got 
out  of  there.  Who's  the  girl  ?" 

"  That's  is  Tobe's  sister.  I  rescued  her  from 
a  band  of  Sioux  Indians  a  few  days  ago." 

"  You  are  welcome  here,  miss,"  said  Dan, 
holding  his  hat  over  his  stomach,  making  his 
best  bow,  after  I  had  introduced  him.  "This 
whole  ranch  is  yours.  Just  take  possession.  But 
I  thought  you  were  dead?'' 

"  I  have  been  for  several  months ;  yes,  even 
worse  than  dead,  for,  as  it  was,  I  suffered  all  the 
horrors  of  death  many  times." 

"  Now,  we  are  expecting  company,"  continued 
the  foreman,  "and  it's  about  time  for  the  teams 
to  return.  We'll  go  in  the  house  and  get  things 


straightened  around.  Glad  you  got  back,  Tobe, 
for  none  of  the  boys  can  cook  like  you  can." 

"Who  is  it,  Dan?"  asked  Tobe,  not  at  all 
pleased  at  having  company  before  he  could  scrub 
and  scour  the  kitchenware.  "Down  casters?" 

"  Well,  yes,  from  Chicago.  There's  Major 
Chump  and  wife,  General  Ab  Clark,  wife  and 
daughter,  and  a  few  more  who  have  no  handles 
to  their  names.  I  think  there  are  nine  in  the 
party.  They  are  going  to  invest  in  cattle,  and 
either  buy  a  ranch  or  locate  one  before  they  re 
turn." 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Tobe,  as  he  started  for  the 
kitchen,  followed  by  Blue  Eye. 

"What  will  I  do?"  said  the  girl.  "Look  at 
these  clothes  of  mine !  I  won't  stay,  now  that's  all 
there  is  to  it.  You'll  have  to  take  me  away." 

"Clo'es  nothin'.  They'll  think  ye're  r'man- 
tic.  We'll  explain  it  all,  so  there,  now." 

"  Hide  me !  Take  me  away !  There  they  arc 
out  there  now. 

"  Shore  'nough !  Well,  't's  no  use  t'  run.  Jis' 
look  pleasant  like.  Sorter's  ef  yer  goin'  t'  have 
yer  pictur'  took,  an'  mebbe  they'll  give  ye  one  o' 
their  dresses.  Purty  tony  folks,  all  right." 

Dan  and  I  went  out  to  meet  them. 

"You  see,"  said  the  major,  "we  didn't  over 
look  anyone.  We  are  all  here,"  and  he  introduced 
us  to  each  of  the  party.  The  baggage  was  un 
loaded  and  carried  in,  and  all  were  made  to  feel 
at  home.  I  persuaded  Blue  Eye  to  come  out  of 
the  kitchen,  and,  after  introducing  her  to  the 
ladies,  told  them  where  I  had  found  her  and 
asked  if  they  could  spare  some  of  their  clothing. 

68 


I  started  to  apologize,  but  Mrs.  Clark  motioned  to 
me  to  return  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Clothes !  Why  bless  you,  my  child,  you  can 
have  half  the  clothes  we  brought  with  us.  Now, 
tell  the  boys  not  a  bite  to  eat  until  six  o'clock.  We 
came  out  west  to  rough  it  awhile,  so  no  favors  for 
us.  Be  sure  and  tell  them."  And  Blue  Eye  came 
in  to  deliver  the  message. 

Well,  Tobe  and  I  hardly  knew  her.  She  was 
handsome  in  her  Indian  dress,  but  now  her  figure 
was  the  embodiment  of  grace  and  feminine  charm. 
I  had  learned  to  love  her,  and  to  see  her  dressed 
the  way  I  had  been  accustomed  to  seeing  girls, 
she  appeared  more  beautiful  to  me  than  ever.  Of 
medium  size,  large,  brown  eyes,  and  long,  wavy, 
black  hair. 

For  a  week  or  more  everything  was  lovely. 
No  Indian  scare,  long  rides  along  the  river,  in 
which  the  girls  usually  joined.  The  major  found 
the  climate  as  good  as  he  expected.  A  little  too 
hot,  pretty  dry,  too  much  wind,  rather  bracing, 
but  too  much  alkali ;  in  fact,  nothing  just  suited 
him.  Mrs.  Chump  spent  most  of  her  time  with 
the  major,  trying  to  get  him  to  admit  that  every 
thing  was  just  lovely.  She  was  very  precise  her 
self,  and  while  she  did  not  approve  of  the  long 
rides  and  romps  the  other  members  took,  she 
would  have  been  glad  to  join  in  them  instead  of 
staying  around  the  ranch.  Then,  too,  the  boys 
might  have  played  some  joke  on  the  major  if  they 
got  him  out  of  her  sight,  and  besides,  the  major 
suffered  with  what  the  boys  called  the  "heaves," 
and  nothing  but  the  spirit  of  the  yellow  corn 
would  relieve  him  when  the  attacks  came  on.  He 
often  had  forty  spells  a  day,  so  we  never  got 

69 


him  farther  than  the  river — the  swimming  hole, 
as  we  called  it,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  ranch. 

The  river  was  about  two  hundred  feet  wide 
and  from  six  to  eighteen  inches  deep,  except  the 
swimming  hole,  which  was  from  two  to  six  feet 
deep.  The  water  was  as  clear  as  crystal,  the 
banks  and  bed  sandy,  making  an  ideal  bathing 
place.  So  the  ladies  finally  decided  they  would 
go  to  the  "beach"  for  an  afternoon.  It  was  an 
exclusive  party,  and  all  the  boys  were  notified. 
When  all  was  ready  I  went  out  and  hitched  up 
old  Selam,  piled  in  the  grips,  opened  the  pasture 
gate,  and,  as  they  drove  through,  told  them  to 
drop  the  bridle  rein  and  Selam  would  stand. 

"  Oh,  we  know  how  to  make  a  cow  horse 
stand,"  said  Mrs.  Clark,  as  they  drove  off.  "Just 
drop  the  rein.  We  will  be  back  in  time  for  din 
ner." 

They  drove  down  behind  a  little  sand  bank, 
stopped  old  Selam  at  the  edge  of  the  water  and 
hung  their  clothes — not  on  a  hickory  limb,  but 
on  the  buggy.  It  was  an  extremely  hot  afternoon, 
and  they  were  enjoying  themselves  immensely. 

"  Fine,  isn't  it?"  said  Mrs.  Clark. 

"  Perfectly  lovely,"  replied  the  other  members 
of  the  party. 

"  Let's  wade  a  little  farther  down,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Shore. 

They  had  forgotten  old  Selam,  also  to  drop 
the  bridle  rein,  and  when  the  horse  discovered 
this  he  turned  about,  recrossed  the  river  and  came 
back  up  to  the  ranch.  The  horse  and  buggy  were 
not  missed  until  time  to  come  home,  and  there 
they  were ;  so  all  commenced  to  yell.  Tobe  and 
I  went  out  to  the  pasture  gate,  thinking  Selam 

70 


had  ran  away  and  thrown  them  out,  but  soon  dis 
covered  what  was  the  matter.  Their  clothes  were 
in  the  buggy.  We  called  Speck  and  asked  him  to 
drive  back  and  see  the  ladies  home.  He  drove 
straight  towards  them,  as  instructed,  instead  of 
crossing  at  the  ford,  for  this  would  have  brought 
him  in  plain  sight  of  them  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  distant,  and  also  in  plain  view  of  the  ranch. 
They  were  down  behind  the  river  bank,  which 
was  about  two  feet  high  at  that  point,  and  Speck 
had  driven  up  to  within  about  thirty  yards  of 
them  before  they  realized  their  predicament.  Then 
they  all  commenced  to  talk  at  once.  The  boy 
stopped. 

"  Go  back  there,  you  speckled  face  Dutchman. 
How  dare  you,  sir?"  said  Mrs.  Chump. 

"  Come  on,  Speck,"  called  Mrs.  Clark.  "We 
have  to  have  our  clothes.  Clinging  Mother  Hub- 
bards  wont'  scare  you." 

"  Shut  your  eyes !  Blindfold  yourself !"  were 
Mrs.  Beverly's  instructions. 

"  Oh,  if  he  were  a  blind  man,  or  if  it  were 
dark,  we  might  get  out  of  here." 

"Stay  there,  Speck!" 

"  Come  on,  Speck !" 

"  Drive  down  this  way  farther." 

"  No,  don't  you  do  it.    Go  back  that  way." 

"  No,  come  straight  on." 

"  Send  the  horse  on  and  you  go  back." 

"  Come  on,  Speck,  we  have  to  have  our 
clothes." 

"  How  dare  you  (wo-o  Selam)  come  any 
nearer  ?" 

When  all  had  yelled  themselves  hoarse,  Speck 
asked : 


"  Now  vhat  you  vant,  I  dunno.  Ven  you  say 
go  pack,  und  I  shtart,  you  call  me  some  more, 
aind  it  ?  Ven  I  kume  close  by,  you  say  go  avay, 
und  I  no  make  him  oudt.  You  haf  der  Selam 
afraid  mit  a  skare,  und  he  like  to  run  avay  und 
shcatter  der  dresses  mit  der  ranch.  Ven  you  vant 
some  pettico'ts  und  vat  you  call  him,  you  vill 
find  him  mit  der  grass,  und  I  go  pack  py  der 
ranch  vonce  yet." 


72 


CHAPTER  XL 

Dinner  was  waiting  when  the  swimming  party 
returned. 

"  I  hope  you  ladies  enjoyed  the  evening,"  said 
the  general,  when  all  had  been  seated  around  the 
table. 

"  Just  splendid,"  replied  his  wife.  "We  feel 
so  refreshed." 

"What  was  the  matter  with  old  Selam?  I 
heard  you  had  a  runaway." 

"  We  didn't.  We  just  forgot  something,  but 
that  was  all  in  the  play.  Nothing  serious  has 
happened,  and  we  are  all  here  and  will  be  ready 
for  a  jaunt  tomorrow." 

Mrs.  Chump  was  growing  so  serious  that  Mrs. 
Clark  changed  the  conversation  to  buffalo,  and 
asked  if  we  couldn't  arrange  a  hunting  trip.  The 
meal  was  finished  just  as  a  bunch  of  riders  came 
in,  bringing  news  of  Indian  depredations  on  the 
Republican. 

"  No  hunting  trip  for  me,"  said  one  of  the 
girls,  and  the  rest  of  the  ladies  shrugged  their 
shoulders.  Mrs.  Chump  thought  the  Indians 
were  being  persecuted. 

"  But,  really,  I  would  like  to  kill  a  buffalo," 
said  Mrs.  Clark. 

"  I'd  rather  kill  an  Indian,"  said  Blue  Eye ; 
and  Mrs.  Chump  was  so  shocked  she  could  scarce 
ly  contain  herself. 

"  You  wicked  girl !  Commit  murder !  The 
poor  Indians  should  be  protected,  and  when  I  re- 

73 


turn  home  I  shall  tell  our  church  to  send  mission 
aries  out  here  to  preach  to  the  heathen.  Oh,  dear ! 
How  the  poor  Indians  must  suffer  at  the  hands  of 
the  ignorant  whites.  I  wish  a  preacher  would 
come  out  here  and  convert  the  people  of  this 
country,  so  they  would  stop  killing  the  poor,  in 
nocent  Indians." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  Indians,"  put  in  the 
major.  "This  weather  is  just  horrible." 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Shore. 

"  Matter !  Too  hot,  and  dry,  and  dusty, 
and—" 

"  There  now,  major,"  said  his  wife,  "that  will 
do.  You  are  a  little  grouchy,  and  if  you  get 
started  to  fussing  you  never  know  when  to  stop. 
Come,  let's  all  go  out  into  the  yard;  its  cooler 
out  there.  Look,  there  is  another  rider  coming.'"' 

"  It's  old  Deacon  Boreus,"  said  the  foreman. 
"The  converting  of  the  heathen  can  commence 
right  away,"  and  he  smiled  at  the  boys  as  he 
turned  to  go  out  to  the  corrals. 

The  deacon  was  known  all  over  the  country 
as  the  tramp  preacher.  He  never  missed  a  meal 
or  paid  a  cent,  and  owed  every  rider  from  the 
Platte  to  the  Arkansas  for  borrowed  money — 
that  is,  everyone  who  would  lend  to  him — but 
claimed  he  had  paid  them  in  prayers.  He  was 
about  as  welcome,  therefore,  as  a  boil  on  the  back 
of  the  neck. 

"  Gawd  bless  you,  my  friends,  Gawd  bless 
you,"  was  the  way  he  greeted  us  as  he  dismount 
ed  and  went  the  rounds  shaking  hands  with  all 
he  could  get  in  reach  of.  "Such  a  pleasant  even 
ing.  Such  a  pleasant  evening.  When  I  eat  a  bite 
we  will  have  services.  A  long  time  I  don't  see 

74 


ladies  in  this  country,  an'  now's  my  chance  to 
preach  to  them.  W'y  howdy,  Tobe,  howdy ;  how's 
your  father?" 

"  He's  still  dead,"  replied  Tobe,  with  as  little 
concern  as  possible. 

"  Dead,  w'y  yes ;  how  stupid  of  me  to  forget. 
To  forget.  But  the  Lord  loveth  a  cheerful  giver. 
Could  I  have  a  bite  too  eat?  I'm  powerful  hun 
gry.  Gawd  will  bless  you  for  all  you  do  for  his 
servant.  I  will  return  thanks,  though  there  is 
little  bread  for  his  people." 

"  So  glad  a  minister  is  to  be  with  us,"  said 
Mrs.  Chump. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  knows  much,"  said  Mrs. 
Beverly. 

"  No,  and  the  boys  don't  like  him  a  bit,  do 
they,  Speck?"  And  Mrs.  Clark  nodded  her  head, 
so  the  boy  knew  he  must  answer  in  the  affirma 
tive. 

"  He  peen  too  pig  a  ted  peet  alretty,"  replied 
Speck.  "Peg  der  poys  mit  some  monies  oudt,  und 
he  no  pay  him  pack,  aind  it?" 

"  He's  a  dear,  good  man  and  a  Christian  gen 
tleman,  and  I  am  so  glad  he  came,"  said  Mrs. 
Chump,  again  taking  the  deacon's  part. 

Thus  ran  the  conversation  until  the  deacon 
finished  his  dinner.  When  he  came  out  he  took 
a  chair  near  Mrs.  Chump,  led  in  the  conversation, 
borrowed  ten  dollars  of  the  good  lady,  then  an 
nounced  that  services  would  begin  with  prayer. 
He  then  talked  for  an  hour,  read  a  chapter,  used 
a  few  misfit  quotations,  and  closed  the  services 
by  announcing  that  he  would  take  for  his  text  the 
next  evening  the  third  verse  of  the  first  chapter 

75 


of  Job.  The  next  day  was  a  dreary  one  for  the 
girls. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  he  would  leave,"  said  Mrs. 
Clark.  "We  didn't  come  out  here  to  get  religion ; 
we  are  here  for  a  holiday,  a  good  time." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "and  I  don't  pro 
pose  to  wear  a  long  face,  even  though  a  preacher 
is  here.  Let's  not  go.  Let  him  preach  if  he 
wants  to.  We  don't  have  to  hear  him." 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  when  I  came  in 
from  a  long  ride  up  the  river.  Around  in  the 
shade  of  the  house  I  saw  the  major  and  the 
deacon.  Both  were  talking  at  once,  with  no  re 
gard  for  what  the  other  was  saying.  The  major 
had  had  a  severe  attack  of  the  "heaves,"  and,  be 
ing  contagious,  the  deacon  had  caught  them  and 
was  relieving  himself  from  the  major's  bottle.  I 
got  hold  of  the  deacon's  bible,  and  with  a  little 
paste  and  some  clippings  fixed  the  text  as  it 
should  read  for  such  as  he,  then  told  the  general 
to  see  that  all  his  crowd  was  present  at  services 
that  night  and  I  would  look  after  the  boys.  I 
walked  the  deacon  awhile  to  sober  him  up,  and 
told  him  what  a  nice  illustration  he  could  make 
with  a  walnut,  the  shell  to  represent  the  sinners, 
the  kernel  the  righteous.  This  pleased  him  great 
ly,  so  he  asked  me  to  get  him  a  walnut,  which  I 
did.  Old  trick  I  had  heard,  but  it  worked  nicely. 

"  You  believe  every  word  in  your  bible,  do 
you  not?"  I  asked. 

"  Certainly,  certainly ;  every  word,  every 
word." 

Promptly  at  the  given  time  the  deacon  opened 
the  services  by  singing  "Jesus  Is  Calling  to  Me," 
then  prayed  until  out  of  breath,  and  words,  too. 

76 


He  then  gave  a  short  talk  on  the  evils  of  intem 
perance.  Next  came  the  text,  which  he  read  as 
follows : 

"  His  substance  also  was  seven  thousand 
sheep,  three  thousand  camels  and  five  hundred 
yoke  of  oxen  and  five  hundred  she  asses,  and  I 
may  be  of  this  last  herd." 

"  Amen !"  shouted  the  major.  "A  great  truth 
has  been  spoken." 

The  deacon  stopped,  cleared  his  throat,  wiped 
his  glasses,  and  read  the  text  again. 

"  Now,  my  dear  friends,  that's  Gawd's  own 
language,  just  as  recorded  in  my  own  bible.  I 
have  read  that  before,  and  chose  it  as  a  text  be 
cause  it  related  to  stock,  and  since  we  all  deal  in 
stock,  it  must  be  very  appropriate.  I  will  read 
on: 

"  And  this  herd  multiplied  greatly,  and  all 
were  not  quadrupeds." 

"  Amen"  again  shouted  the  major.  "Another 
great  truth." 

"  Gawd's  own  language,  just  as  recorded  in 
my  own  bible.  I  will  read  still  another  verse. 

"  Who  can  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  un 
clean?  Not  one.  And  damned  if  I  don't  believe 
that." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  major. 

"  It's  Gawd's  own  language,  and  I  believe 
every  word  of  this  book." 

"  Well,  your  congregation  believes  all  you 
have  read  tonight,  deacon;  can't  you  give  us  a 
few  more  verses  ?" 

"  Well — er,  yes.  I  could  go  on,  but  I  am 
wandering  too  far  from  my  text.  I  was  to  talk 
to  you  of  Job's  flocks.  Now,  Job  was  a  very  pious 

77 


and  patient  man  and  owned  great  herds.  I  must 
illustrate  to  you  the  difference  between  Job  and 
his  people  and  those  who  were  ungodly.  I  have 
here  an  English  walnut.  This  outside  shell  rep 
resents  the  sinner,  a  class  to  which  my  cowboy 
friends  belong.  They  are  going  down  to  perdition 
as  fast  as  the  unlocked  wheels  of  eternity  can 
roll  them.  They  are  damned  because  they  will 
not  come  to  us  and  be  saved.  Now,  we  come  to 
the  good  part,  the  kernel,  which  is  as  we  Chris 
tians,  pure  and  holy,  good,  just  like  this — " 

He  had  opened  the  walnut,  and  out  rolled  a 
big,  fat  grub  worm.  He  mopped  his  brow, 
picked  up  his  bible  and  hat  and  left,  the  service 
coming  to  an  end. 

"  Major,"  said  Mrs.  Chump,  "do  you  know 
who  did  that?" 

"Did  what?" 

"  Why,  fixed,  changed,  er — d-done  something 
to  the  deacon's  text.  It's  awful,  dreadful !  What 
won't  these  people  do  out  here,  anyway  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  it's  not  so  bad ;  the  deacon  said 
he  believed  all  he  read,  and  I'm  sure  I  do." 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak  the  deacon  was 
seen  riding  off  down  the  river.  For  several  days 
M|rs.  Chump  kept  asking  those  about  the  ranch 
if  the  deacon  had  left  her  ten  dollars  with  them. 

"  He  surely  left  it  with  someone,"  said  she, 
'for  he  only  wanted  it  a  day  or  two." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  riders  had  commenced  returning  to  the 
ranch,  where  they  would  be  safer.  The  first 
roundup  was  over  and  the  second  one  had  to  be 
abandoned  on  account  of  the  Indians.  Each  day 
we  could  hear  of  the  killing  of  some  settler  or  the 
burning  of  someone's  home,  so  there  seemed 
nothing  we  could  do  but  prepare  for  them  when 
they  should  turn  back  north. 

But  a  gang  of  cowboys  never  borrow  trouble ; 
they  are  afraid  they  cannot  pay  it  back.  Uncle 
Jimmy,  the  oldest  inhabitant,  came  home,  not 
that  he  was  afraid  of  Indians,  but  because  he 
wanted  to  rest  his  horses.  Tomato  Charley,  Milt, 
Trig,  Walter,  Harry  and  a  half  dozen  boys  from 
the  Platte  came  next,  and  things  were  lively  for 
a  few  days,  notwithstanding  the  danger  ahead. 
Every  one  was  happy  except  the  major,  Mrs. 
Chump  and  Uncle  Jimmy.  The  "heaves"  grew 
worse  with  the  major.  He  didn't  like  the  cook 
ing,  the  weather  was  too  hot,  the  ranch  houses 
weren't  built  right;  nothing  suited  him.  Mrs. 
Chump  was  so  sorry  for  the  Indians  she  became 
disagreeable,  but  the  boys  were  courteous  and 
gentlemanly.  No  matter  what  happened  or  was 
supposed  to  have  happened,  Uncle  Jimmy  had  al 
ways  seen  or  heard  of  something  a  litle  worse. 
Milt  was  the  champion  cornet  player  of  the  state ; 
gave  up  a  position  that  paid  him  handsomely 
because  he  loved  outdoor  life.  Harry  could  speak 
seven  languages,  was  capable  of  teaching  five,  but 

79 


rode  the  range  as  a  matter  of  choice.  Trig  was 
a  graduate  of  Oberlin  and  Walter  a  lawyer.  I 
mention  the  qualifications  of  these  for  the  reason 
that  many  people  think  the  majority  (some  would 
say  all)  of  cowboys  are  ignorant.  Toniato  Char 
ley  never  went  to  "skule,"  but  was  somewhat  of 
a  philosopher.  "Take  chances;  th'  shore  things 
air  all  roped  an'  branded."  "Ye  can't  tell  how  big 
th'  front  door  uv  a  barn  is  by  lookin'  at  th'  back 
side."  "Don't  bet  too  much  on  one  pair ;  there's  a 
heap  uv  other  cyards  in  th'  deck."  "Never  speak 
diserspec'ful  uv  a  lady;  she  might  hev  a  brother 
bigger'n  you,"  and  many  other  similar  expres 
sions  were  at  his  tongue's  end. 

We  had  just  finished  our  noonday  meal  the 
second  day  after  the  boys  reached  home  when 
two  riders  were  seen  coming  up  the  river,  urging 
their  horses  to  their  utmost  speed.  All  was  ex 
citement  for  a  few  moments,  but  when  they  rode 
up  we  saw  Nigger  Sam,  the  horsebreaker,  from 
Burntwood,  was  just  having  a  little  fun  with  a 
tenderfoot. 

"  Yassah,  yassah,  dars  injuns  comin'  shore," 
and  the  fellow  with  him  was  scared  almost  out  of 
his  wits.  He  didn't  know  which  he  feared  most, 
Indians  or  cowboys. 

"Kevin'  a  little  fun  'ith  thet  feller,  Sam?" 
asked  Tobe,  as  he  came  out  of  the  kitchen  to  see 
what  was  going  on. 

"  Yassah,  an'  Ise  laft  mahsef  sick,  sah.  I  wus 
jis'  comin'  t'  see  'bout  matters  ober  yer,  an'  I  met 
dis  yer  feller.  Yaw,  yaw,  yaw.  Seen  'im  hidin' 
out.  Yaw,  yaw,  yaw.  An'  he  done  tole  me  'bout 
bein'  in  de  big  Injun  fight  down  on  Big  Sandy,  an' 
how  many  he  done  killed  all  by  hissef,  an'  I 

80 


knowed  he  wus  jis'  too  tender  fer  dis  yer  worl', 
an'  I  commenced  talkin'  'bout  Injuns  an'  cowboys, 
an' — yaw,  yaw,  yaw.  Well,  sah,  I  like  t'  run  mah 
boss  to  def  keepin'  up  to  'im,  an' — " 

"Here!    Help!    Help!" 

We  all  ran  out  and  found  Rube  had  gone  into 
the  wrong  corral  in  his  effort  to  hide,  and 
hung  himself  up  on  an  old  Texas  cow's  horns. 
She  had  pinned  him  up  against  the  sod  wall,  and 
was  doing  all  in  her  power  to  make  his  visit 
pleasant — to  her.  We  rescued  him,  and  the  boys 
charged  him  two  and  a  half  for  their  trouble.  He 
climbed  up  on  top  of  the  stable  to  look  for  In 
dians,  but  was  finally  persuaded  to  come  down 
and  get  something  to  eat. 

"Now,  Rube,"  said  Tomato  Charley,  "we 
don't  'low  ye've  come  hyar  t'  sponge,  so  ye'll  help 
'ith  th'  chores.  First  ye'll  ride  old  Selam  t'  water, 
an'  I'll  help  ye." 

Selam  was  saddled  and  the  back  cinch  drawn 
so  tight  that  the  old  horse  bucked  him  off.  Then 
the  ducks  had  to  be  driven  up,  and  after  keeping 
the  fellow  in  the  river  for  an  hour,  he  was  told 
that  the  ducks  would  have  to  stay  out.  "They 
don't  'pear  t'  want  t'  come  in,  nohow." 

We  had  a  buffalo  calf  staked  down  in  the  pas 
ture,  a  big,  stout  fellow  about  four  months  old, 
and  Charley  told  Rube  he  must  feed  the  "Pole 
Ang's"  calf.  They  got  a  pail  of  skimmed  milk 
and  started  off. 

"  Ever  teach  a  calf  ter  drink  milk,  Rube  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I'm  no  tenderfoot.  Been  west  a 
long  time.  I  act  like  an  oldtimer,  don't  I  ?" 

"  Yas,  jis'  like  one.  I  know'd  ye  wus  a-put- 
tin'  uv  th'  scare  on  all  th'  time.  Ye're  jis'  like 

81 


an  or  ban'.  Now,  here's  a  thor'bred  Pole  Ang's 
calf  what  we're  a-weanin',  an'  ye  mus'  teach  'im 
t'  drink  milk.  If  'e  don't  drink  at  firs',  jis'  push 
'is  nose  in  th'  bucket  an'  hoi'  it  there  till  'e  swal- 
lers.  Now  go  up  to  'im." 

The  calf  had  gone  as  far  as  the  sixty-foot 
stake  rope  would  let  him,  stood  there  with  head 
down  and  neck  bowed.  Rube  walked  up  to  him, 
and,  holding  the  bucket  with  one  hand,  pushed  the 
calf's  head  down  into  the  milk  with  the  other.  Of 
course,  this  was  all  new  to  the  calf,  so  it  gave  a 
bawl,  jumped  forward,  butted  Rube  in  the  stom 
ach,  knocked  him  over  and  came  near  drowning 
him  with  the  milk.  When  he  tried  to  get  up  the 
calf  butted  bnn  over  again  and  jumped  on  him. 
Rube  was  anxious  to  get  to  the  ranch.  He 
crawled  and  rolled  and  ran  when  he  could,  the 
calf  following  the  full  length  of  the  rope.  He 
crawled  on  his  hands  and  feet  the  last  twenty 
or  thirty  feet,  and  when  finally  out  of  reach  of 
the  calf  go  up  to  look  himself  over.  He  was 
covered  with  milk  and  dirt,  and  his  clothes  were 
torn  into  strips. 

"  Ye  done  well,  Rube,  firs'  rate.  Never  see  a 
feller  'at  could  furnish  a  calf  so  much  'musement 
as  ye  kin  an'  look  so  pleasin'  like.  Yer  never  kin 
tell  th'  length  uv  a  stake  rope  till  it's  stretched 
out.  Enjoy  it 's  well  's  th'  calf  did,  Rube?" 

"  Ask  the  calf,"  said  Rube,  and  he  crawled 
through  the  wire  fence  and  went  back  to  the  cor 
rals. 

All  had  enjoyed  the  fun  immensely.  General 
and  Mrs.  Clark  took  a  deep  interest  in  everything 
that  was  doing,  and  the  girls  thought  the  show 
better  than  a  circus. 

82 


Blue  Eye  was  so  happy  at  having  made  good 
her  escape  from  the  Indians  that  she  could  scarce 
ly  believe  things  were  real.  Then,  too,  she  had 
found  Tobe,  her  brother,  she  had  so  long  mourned 
as  dead. 

"  Oh,  if  this  life  I'm  living  now  would  only 
last  forever,"  she  remarked  to  me  that  evening 
while  we  were  out  for  a  ride.  "Such  gentlemanly 
boys  and  such  a  sweet  girl  as  Miss  Clark.  And 
Tobe  here,  too.  Why,  I  really  feel  as  if  I  were 
somebody — not  an  Indian,  after  all."  And  she 
turned  her  head  to  hide  a  blush.  I  made  no  re 
ply,  so  she  continued: 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor  ?  I  want  to  know 
something." 

"  Very  well,"  I  replied.    "What  is  it?" 

"  Roany,  this  fine,  big  horse  Speck  caught  for 
me,  is  mine  to  keep,  is  he?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  the  Indians  stole  him ;  but  if  I 
can  find  the  owner  I  will  pay  for  the  horse  and 
you  can  keep  him." 

"  Well,  he's  such  a  kind  old  fellow,  and  I  en 
joy  riding  him  so  much,  I  would  hate  to  give  him 
up." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  No.  I  haven't  asked  you  what  I  intended 
to  at  all.  Say,  will  you  tell  me  ?  I  want  to  know 
how  much  you  paid  for  me.  How  much  did  you 
give  old  Gray  Wolf?" 

"  You  helped  make  the  bargain,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  so  excited  that  I  forgot  to 
keep  account." 

"  You  must  have  some  idea,  for  you  told  us 
that  we  gave  all  you  were  worth.  And  it  doesn't 
matter,  anyway.  You  do  not  owe  me  anything,  if 

83 


it's  a  matter  of  dollars  and  cents  you  are  asking 
about.  I  hope  you  will  never  feel  under  any  ob 
ligation  to  me  for  what  little  I  have  done  for 
you." 

"  What  little!    Risked  your  life,  didn't  you?" 

"  I  did  only  what  any  of  the  boys  here  at  the 
ranch  would  have  done ;  but  let's  not  talk  of  that. 
You  know  we  are  going  to  the  sand  hills  tomor 
row  to  hunt  buffalo,  so  we  must — " 

"  I  won't  talk  of  hunting.     Fm  curious." 

"  All  women  are,  I  believe." 

"Aren't  men?" 

"  I  presume  they  are  to  a  certain  extent,  but 
I'll  tell  you  if  you  ever  get  me  out  of  bondage,  or 
ever  buy  me,  I  won't  be  particular  about  the 
facts.  We'll  just  allow  that  you  got  the  worst 
of  the  bargain  and  let  it  go  at  that." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  say  that  ?" 

"  Just  around  that  hill  is  where  we  will  leave 
the  river  tomorrow,  then  ride  north  and  out  into 
the  hills  above  the  headwaters  of  the  little  creek. 
I  feel  sure  there  are  buffalo  out  there,"  I  replied, 
in  an  effort  to  change  the  subject.  "It's  nearly 
sundown,  and  I  think  we  had  better  return  to  the 
ranch.  Here  comes  Miss  Clark  and  Tobe,  and 
we  must  go  back  with  them." 

"  Remember,  you  haven't  told  me  what  you 
paid  yet." 

"  Well,  I  will  sometime,  if  you  are  really 
curious  to  know.  Come  on  now,  wake  up  that  old 
plowhorse  or  it  will  be  dark  before  we  get  home." 

"  Old  plowhorse !  Roany,  did  you  hear  that  ? 
Come!  We  won't  ride  with  him."  And  away 
they  went,  leaving  me  far  behind.  When  we 

84 


reached  the  ranch  Roany  was  eating  a  pan  of 
dry  bread. 

Tobe  and  Miss  Clark  had  seen  Blue  Eye  leave 
me  and  were  anxious  to  know  what  was  the  mat 
ter. 

"  I  hope  they  haven't  quarreled.  They  are 
both  just  as  nice  as  can  be,  and  everything  is  so 
lovely  here.  Why,  it  would  just  spoil  our  visit 
if  they  were  to  fall  out." 

"  He's  ben  teasin'  her  agin,  prob'ly  'bout  her 
hoss,"  said  Tobe.  "They  won't  quarrel,  don't  be 
afered  o'  that." 

"  Called  you  an  old  plowhorse,  didn't  he, 
Roany?"  said  Blue  Eye,  as  we  rode  up,  "and  we 
just  ran  off  and  left  him.  Wait,  now,  till  I  get 
you  some  sugar  for  the  last  piece  of  bread." 

We  were  returning  from  the  pasture  after 
putting  out  the  horses  when  we  saw  Rube  com 
ing  down  the  hill  yelling  "Indians!"  Following 
him  a  few  yards  came  Tomato  Charley  with  a  red 
blanket  over  his  head.  Rube  never  looked  back, 
jumped  the  wire  fence,  plunged  into  the  river, 
waded  out  on  the  opposite  side  and  made  for  the 
sand  hills,  where  he  slept  that  night. 

"  Haven't  you  had  enough  fun  with  that  fel 
low  yet?"  asked  Mrs.  Clark.  "We  have  laughed 
until  we  are  nearly  sick,  but  I  fear  he  will  take 
cold  if  he  sleeps  out,  wet  and  thinly  clad  as 
he  is." 

"  Well,  he's  not  fit  ter  be  'round.  He  come  t' 
th'  roundup  an'  sponged  'while,  tol'  us  'bout  'is 
bravery  an'  stole  ever'thing  he  could  git  'is  han's 
on ;  took  ten  dollars  out  o'  my  war  bag  one  morn- 
in',  an'  I'm  tryin'  t'  git  even." 

85 


"  The  show  has  been  worth  that  much  to  us 
already." 

"  Will  there  be  another  performance  tomor 
row?" 

"  Yas,  if  'e  comes  back.  Ye  see,  ye  kin 
sometimes  git  more  fun  fer  yer  money  if  tother 
feller  spends  it  than  ye  kin  t'  spend  it  yerself,  so 
I  reckon  there'll  be  some  more  uv  it  tomorrie." 

"  How  much  fun  some  people  want  for  ten 
dollars,"  said  Mrs.  Shore,  sympathetically. 

Plans  were  then  made  for  the  buffalo  hunt. 
Nigger  Sam  sang  a  few  of  his  best  songs,  the 
general,  a  pastmaster  in  the  art  of  story  telling, 
entertained  us  with  reminiscences  until  a  late 
hour,  then  all  retired. 


86 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

All  were  up  bright  and  early  the  next  morning 
making  ready  for  the  hunt. 

Rube  had  returned  sometime  during  the  night, 
had  taken  his  horse  and  bade  us  good-bye  while 
we  slept. 

The  major  awoke  with  the  "heaves,"  but 
Uncle  Jimmy  had  seen  a  man  who  had  them 
worse. 

The  riders,  who  had  stopped  a  day  with  us, 
bade  us  good  morning  and  started  to  their  re 
spective  ranches. 

The  horses  were  brought  up  and  saddled,  and 
we  were  off  for  a  buffalo  hunt,  each  carrying  a 
little  lunch  and  a  bottle  of  water  tied  somewhere 
about  his  saddle. 

Blue  Eye  and  I  took  the  lead,  followed  by  Gen 
eral  Clark  and  wife,  Tobe,  Tomato  Charley  and 
Miss  Clark,  with  Sam  and  Speck  in  the  rear. 

"  The  rest  of  us  will  keep  ranch,"  said  Mrs. 
Beverly,  as  we  rode  away.  "It's  going  to  be  too 
hot  for  us  to  go  out  today,  anyway." 

Sam's  horse,  a  fine,  big  chestnut  sorrel,  but 
not  very  well  broken,  bolted  and  commenced  to 
buck,  and  we  saw  as  pretty  an  exhibition  of 
broncho  riding  as  we  had  ever  seen.  Sam  seemed 
as  much  at  ease  as  though  he  were  in  a  rocking 
chair.  While  the  horse  was  bucking  the  hard 
est — and  he  was  doing  a  good  job  of  it,  too — 
Sam  lighted  a  cigarette  and  went  puffing  away 
as  though  the  horse  were  walking. 

87 


"  Could  you  do  that,  general  ?"  asked  his  wife, 
as  we  turned  back  into  the  trail  and  headed  up 
the  river. 

"  No,  and  if  it  pleases  the  boys  who  select  my 
horses  for  me  when  we  go  out  riding,  I'll  never 
try  it." 

I  pointed  out  the  government  monument,  and 
we  turned  and  rode  around  it. 

"  There,"  said  Tobe,  "out  o'  one  state,  through 
two  more,  an'  back  ag'in  into  th  'state  we  started 
from  in  two  seconds.  Any  uv  y'u  ever  do  that 
afore?" 

The  comments  on  the  climate  of  the  different 
states  were  varied  as  we  pushed  on.  After  an 
hour's  ride  we  turned  north  through  the  sand 
hills  and  the  hunt  began.  There  was  no  trail,  so 
we  all  rode  abreast.  After  a  chase  of  a  couple  of 
miles,  a  gray  wolf  was  roped  and  shot.  We  had 
sighted  a  small  herd  of  buffalo  and  had  changed 
our  course  that  we  might  approach  them  from 
behind  a  sand  hill,  situated  some  distance  to  the 
west.  As  we  rode  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  from 
the  easterly  side  we  saw  Indians  about  a  mile 
away  riding  up  a  similar  hill  from  the  northwest. 
We  dismounted  and  led  our  horses  back  a  few 
rods,  then,  keeping  down  well  out  of  sight, 
watched  them  as  they  continued  their  journey  to 
ward  the  river.  They  were  traveling  southwest, 
and  to  reach  the  ranch  the  shortest  way  we  would 
go  southeast.  Blue  Eye  took  the  field  glasses, 
watched  the  Indians  a  few  moments,  then  turn 
ing  to  me,  said : 

"  We  must  get  out  of  here.  I  have  been  with 
the  Indians  enough  to  know  that  this  band  is  out 

88 


for  murder.  They  are  vicious  and  would  scalp 
us  in  a  moment  if  they  caught  us." 

Knowing  we  had  not  been  discovered,  we 
started  down  a  little  draw  that  led  back  to  the 
river  and  reached  the  ranch  in  safety. 

"  Where's  yer  buffalo  ?"  asked  Uncle  Jimmy. 

"  We  sighted  some  all  right,"  said  the  gen 
eral,  "and  we  sighted  something  else,  too,  so  we 
just  concluded  we  didn't  like  buffalo  meat,  any 
way." 

"  Th'  meat's  mighty  nice,  too,"  said  Charley. 
"Fine;  but  ye  can't  mos'  allus  tell  jis'  how  good 
buffalo  meat  is  till  ye  kill  th'  buffalo." 

We  had  just  finished  our  noonday  meal  when 
old  Deacon  Boreus  rode  up,  asked  one  of  the  boys 
to  turn  out  his  horse,  and  walked  in,  greeting  all 
with  his  usual,  "Howdy,  howdy,  boys;  how's  all 
the  folks,  an'  Tobe,  how's  yer  father?" 

"I  to!'  ye  'bout  forty  times,"  replied  Tobe, 
"thet  father's  dead.  Wall,  he's  dead  yit." 

"  So  you  have.  How  stupid  of  me  to  forget — • 
to  forget.  And  how's  the  major  and  Sister 
Chump  ?  W'y  you  all  look  like  the  country  agrees 
with  you.  Too  much  worldliness,  though,  I  fear, 
and  we  must  have  divine  services  tonight." 

"  Will  you  preach  from  the  same  text  you  did 
when  here  last  ?"  asked  the  general. 

"  W'y — er  no.  Some  ungodly  person  who 
hath  not  the  fear  of  the  Lord  in  his  soul  changed 
my  bible." 

"  But  you  said  you  believed  all  you  had  read." 

"  Yes,  just  so.  But  that  was  a  false  statement 
— I  mean  the  text;  I  didn't  read  right.  But  I 
must  be  excused  till  I  eat  my  dinner.  I  must 

89 


eat,  ye  know,  to  keep  my  strength  up,  so  I  can 
preach  better." 

As  the  deacon  got  up  to  leave  the  table  To 
mato  Charley  came  in  and  greeted  the  old  preach 
er  cordially. 

"  Deacon,"  said  he,  "I've  got  a  r'ligis  fit,  an* 
ye'll  hev  t'  take  me  out  an'  pray  f  r  me.  Ye'll 
hev  t'  pray  hard,  too,  f'r  I've  got  it  bad.  Now 
git  down  an'  at  it." 

Charley  lay  down  in  the  shade  of  the  house, 
and  the  deacon  began  to  pray. 

"  A  little  louder,  deacon,  'n  ye  better  fan  me, 
too.  It'll  have  a  better  'feet." 

"  There  now,  my  good  man,"  said  the  deacon, 
after  he  had  prayed  and  fanned  his  would-be  con 
vert  for  about  an  hour,  "I  believe  you've  got  re 
ligion." 

"  Not  yit,  deacon,  not  yit.  I've  jis'  com 
menced  t'  see  things.  Keep  'er  up.  I've  got  a 
purty  bad  case,  an'  I'll  backslide  ef  ye  stop  now." 

The  deacon  again  knelt  beside  him  and  fanned 
and  prayed  until  exhausted.  Charley  pretended 
he  had  fallen  asleep.  The  deacon  got  up  and 
looked  about,  and  when  he  saw  we  were  all  laugh 
ing,  walked  down  to  the  pasture  toward  the  river. 
Speck  threw  a  bucket  of  water  on  the  convert, 
which  was  taken  good  naturedly,  but  Charley  got 
up  and  took  after  the  preacher. 

"  I  wish  ye'd  not  babtize  me  so  soon,  Dutchy, 
fer  I  ain't  got  it  yit.  I'll  hev  t'  go  out  in  th' 
sun  to  dry  off.  Keep  'er  up,  deacon,  keep  'er  up. 
Yer  a-doin'  good  t'  th'  heathen." 

The  deacon  stopped  and  attempted  to  get 
away,  but  Charley  hung  to  him. 

90 


"  More,  deacon,  more.  Don't  quit  me  half 
finished,"  pleaded  Charley,  as  he  followed  him 
about.  He  made  the  deacon  go  out  into  the  cor 
rals  and  pray  with  him  there.  Then  they  climbed 
up  on  the  house. 

'*  Now  pray  f'm  th'  housetop,  deacon,  yer  a 
little  nearder  t'  heaven  'an  ye  was  on  th'  groun', 
an'  kind  o'  change  yer  langwij.  It'll  hev  more 
'feet.  There!  I  feel  'er  a-comin'.  Jis'  keep  'er 
up."  But  the  deacon  had  climbed  down,  taken 
his  bridle  and  started  after  his  horse. 

"  Don't  ye  g'way,  deacon,  yer  a-makin'  a  fit 
subjec'  fer  cowboy  heaven  ef  ye  keep  'er  up  long 
'nough." 

The  deacon  had  saddled  his  pony  and  was 
ready  to  go,  but  Charley  insisted  that  he  stay  a 
while  longer.  The  deacon  mounted,  but  Charley 
sprang  up  behind  him  and  held  the  reins. 

"  Don't  leave  me  yit,  deacon.  I  ain't  quite  over 
't,  an'  I'm  'feared  I'll  backslide,  runnin'  'ith  these 
here  ungodly  people;  an'  b'sides,  I  ain't  got  th' 
worth  o'  m'  money  yit." 

"  Not  going  to  leave  us,  deacon  ?"  asked  the 
general,  as  he  walked  out  where  he  could  enjoy 
the  fun  better. 

"  Yes.  You  see  I  had  intended  to  hold  a  sort 
of  revival  services  for  a  few  days  here,  but  I 
forgot  I  had  an  appointment  down  the  river." 

Charley  finally  let  the  deacon  go,  and  walked 
back  to  the  house  and  threw  himself  down  on  his 
bed  to  rest. 

"  Aren't  you  ashamed,"  said  Mrs.  Chump,  "to 
make  sport  with  one  of  God's  servants." 

"  No,  ma'am.  Ye  see,  he  owes  me  'bout  fifty 
dollars  fer  borried  money,  an'  he  allus  says  he'll 


pay  me  in  prayers,  'n  as  he  had  nothin'  else  tef 
do,  I  thought  this  'ould  be  a  good  time  t'  pay 
th'  int'rest." 

"  How  much  will  you  credit  him  for  the  even 
ing's  work?" 

"  I  'd  thought  'bout  a  dollar,  but  he  repeated 
hissef  so  much  I  guess  thirty  cents  '11  be  'bout 
right." 

"  You  don't  want  much  for  your  money.  I 
thought  from  the  way  you  enjoyed  it  you  would 
give  him  a  receipt  in  full." 

"  Yer  uv  too  gen'rous  a  disp'sition  fer  me. 
Ye  see,  this  is  somethin'  like  th'  case  'ith  th' 
boy  yiste'day  gittin  th'  fun  an'  t'other  feller 
spendin'  th'  money." 

"  Tomato  Charley  shall  have  a  new  suit  of 
clothes  as  soon  as  we  reach  the  city,"  said  Miss 
Clark.  "I  have  laughed  until  I  have  a  pain  in  my 
side,  and,  thank  goodness,  besides  the  fun  we 
have  had,  we  are  rid  of  that  old  preacher." 

Being  disappointed  in  our  hunting  trip,  the 
conversation  drifted  back  to  buffalo,  wolves  and 
mountain  lion,  and  we  resolved  to  go  out  the  next 
day  and  have  another  hunt. 

It  was  sundown  when  one  of  the  Abbott  boys, 
a  manly  young  fellow  about  twenty  years  old, 
rode  up,  having  come  across  from  the  South 
Beaver.  His  horse  could  scarcely  walk,  he  was 
so  tired,  and  it  was  some  minutes  before  the  boy 
could  tell  us  why  he  had  ridden  so  hard. 

"  The  Injuns  has  killed  m'  ol'  father,  stole  all 
th'  hosses  an'  burnt  our  house  an'  stable.  There's 
'bout  a  hundred  uv  'em,  and  they're  a-comin'  this 
way.  They  follered  me  till  I  made  good  Injuns 
uv  four  'r  five  uv  'em.  See,  only  one  round  o* 

92 


ca'tridges  left.  Poor  ol'  Bally,  I'm  'fraid  Fve 
killed  ye,"  he  said,  as  he  patted  his  horse  on  the 
neck. 

Both  were  cared  for  with  tender  hands,  and 
three  guards  were  placed  on  the  east,  west  and 
south  of  the  ranch,  the  pasture  fence  protecting 
us  on  the  north.  At  midnight  or  a  little  later 
these  guards  were  relieved  and  others  sent  out. 
At  daybreak  all  were  called  in  to  breakfast.  The 
foreman  then  asked  who  would  make  a  short 
tour  of  the  hills  about  the  ranch  and  endeavor  to 
locate  the  Indians.  Everyone  except  the  major 
and  Uncle  Jimmy  asked  that  they  might  go. 

"  You  can't  all  go,"  said  Dan.  "Some  of  us 
must  stay  here  to  protect  the  ranch  and  women." 

The  general,  Speck  and  I  were  finally  selected 
to  go,  and  the  horses  were  brought  in  and  sad 
dled.  The  girls  begged  so  hard  that  they  were 
finally  permitted  to  accompany  us.  We  rode 
south  a  short  distance,  then  ascended  a  high  sand 
hill,  from  the  top  of  which  we  could  obtain  a  good 
view  of  the  surrounding  country. 

"  There  they  are,  camped  on  the  river  bottom 
to  the  west  of  us,"  said  the  general,  as  he  stood 
in  his  stirrups  adjusting  the  field  glasses.  "I  be 
lieve  there's  a  hundred  of  them.  Let's  make  the 
top  of  that  high  hill  there,  where  we  can  get  a 
better  view.  We'll  be  near  the  trail  and  can 
easily  reach  the  ranch  if  they  discover  us." 

We  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  the  general  had 
pointed  out,  and  there,  near  the  mouth  of  a  little 
creek  that  put  in  from  the  south,  were  the  In 
dians,  not  over  a  half  a  mile  away.  They  had 
rounded  up  their  horses  and  were  making  prep 
arations  to  move. 

93 


Blue  Eye  took  the  field  glasses,  looked  at  them 
a  moment,  then,  turning  to  me,  said,  "They  are 
Cheyennes." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  I  asked. 

"  By  their  walk.  A  Cheyenne  Indian  walks 
flat-footed,  much  as  we  do,  but  a  Sioux  walks  on 
his  toes.  He  will  sometimes  walk  for  miles  and 
scarcely  touch  his  heels  to  the  ground." 

"  Look  here  vonce  alretty,"  said  Speck,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  southwest  up  the  little  creek. 
"Dere's  der  rest  of  der  families  coomin'  ter  meet 
'em  some  more,  aind  it?" 

We  could  see  about  as  many  Indians  as  we 
had  seen  on  the  river  bottom.  They  were  driving 
a  large  band  of  horses  and  beating  their  rawhide 
drums. 

"Those  are  Sioux,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "and  I 
shudder  to  think  what  will  happen.  Indians  mov 
ing  in  the  same  direction  get  along  all  right,  but 
in  a  narrow  canyon  like  that  both  will  claim  the 
right  of  way.  Watch !  Oh,  it  will  be  a  glorious 
fight.  See!  The  Cheyennes  are  well  into  the 
canyon  with  their  horses,  and  there  come  the 
Sioux.  They  will  meet  at  the  bend  of  the  creek, 
not  half  a  mile  away.  Oh,  if  we  were  only  a  lit 
tle  closer!" 

"  Can  you  look  at  the  fight,"  said  I,  as  I  rode 
up  between  the  two  girls.  They  assured  me  they 
could,  and  with  no  thought  of  our  own  safety 
we  awaited  results.  The  Indians  met  at  the 
point  we  had  expected  they  would.  The  horses 
they  were  driving  came  together,  and  each  tribe 
seemed  to  claim  the  whole  bunch  as  well  as  the 
right  to  the  canyon.  They  held  hurried  pow 
wows,  then  both  charged,  endeavoring  to  force 

94 


the  horses  through  the  other's  ranks.  The  horses 
stampeded,  circling  close  to  where  we  stood,  then 
turning  north  ran  down  the  hill  and  across  the 
river.  The  Indians  came  together  and  the  fight 
was  on.  Some  shot  their  horses  and  dropped  be 
hind  them,  while  others  crawled  behind  rocks  and 
little  clumps  of  trees.  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
Indians  will  not  fight  in  the  open.  It  may 
be  they  won't  when  they  can  get  under  cover. 
Blood  ran  deep  in  that  little  canyon  that  morn 
ing.  What  they  were  fighting  about  we  never 
knew,  nor  did  we  care  so  long  as  they  fought  each 
other.  The  Sioux  were  armed  the  best,  but  the 
Cheyennes  seemed  stronger  in  numbers.  Hand 
to  hand  they  fought,  more  being  killed  with 
knives  than  with  bullets.  When  it  was  over 
the  scene  was  something  dreadful  to  behold.  The 
dead  lay  in  heaps,  but  not  a  live  Indian  could  be 
seen.  If  any  survived  they  made  their  escape 
up  the  canyon. 

We  returned  to  the  ranch  and  related  the 
story  of  the  massacre,  "The  Battle  of  the  Aricka- 
ree." 

The  major  had  taken  a  little  too  much  medi 
cine  that  morning  to  be  interested  in  Indian  war 
fare,  but  Uncle  Jimmy  had  witnessed  a  greater 
battle  down  on  Big  Sandy  between  the  Arapahoes 
and  Cherokees. 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  kill  any  of  those  harmless 
Indians,  did  you?"  said  Mrs.  Chump. 

"  Harmless  be  damned,"  said  young  Ab 
bott.  "Those  Sioux  killed  my  father,  and  I  would 
to  God  there  had  been  a  thousand  on  each  side  and 
all  shared  the  same  fate  as  these  did.  Harmless ! 
If  you  were  a  man,  you'd  not  make  that  state- 

95 


ment  again,  but  being  an  ignorant  woman — I 
mean  ignorant  regarding  these  red-handed  mur 
derous  devils — I  beg  pardon  for  having  spoken  so 
harshly." 

We  were  preparing  for  lunch,  when  Lieuten 
ant  Coward  rode  up  with  a  few  soldiers  and  a 
dozen  enlisted  men  from  the  Bar.  T.  and  T.  T. 
ranches,  and  in  a  squeaky,  shaky  voice  (for  he 
was  scared  half  to  death)  placed  us  all  under  ar 
rest  on  the  charge  of  killing  Indians. 


96 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  next  morning  those  of  us  who  had  wit 
nessed  the  massacre  were  marched  back  to  the 
battle  grounds. 

Although  we  had  learned  to  hate  Indians  as 
we  hated  wolves  or  other  wild  beasts  of  the 
plains,  there  were  many  expressions  of  sympathy 
as  we  stood  and  gazed  on  the  awful  scene  be 
fore  us. 

"  Two  hundred  dead  Indians  and  half  as 
many  horses/'  said  the  Lieutenant,  after  his  men 
had  made  a  report.  "You  and  your  accessories 
will  be  taken  to  Ft.  Junta  for  trial." 

"  For  trial,"  said  I,  somewhat  indignant, 
"Innocent  until  proven  guilty  is  an  old  saying, 
and  it  will  fit  our  case  exactly.  We  have  done 
nothing.  We  have  explained  to  you  that  this 
was  a  battle  between  Indians,  in  which  we  had  no 
part  and  for  which  we  were  not  responsible.  I 
speak  not  only  for  myself,  but  for  my  friends 
here,  when  I  tell  you  we  will  not  go  with  you  to 
Ft.  Junta  for  trial,  or  anywhere  else." 

"  Sir,  you  shall  be  placed  in  irons.  Cor 
poral—" 

"  Not  today,  Lieutenant,"  said  General  Clark, 
as  he  raised  his  Winchester. 

"  Hold  on,  General !  Hold  on!  We  will  go 
back  to  the  ranch  and  talk  this  matter  over." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  That  is  just  what  we  have 
wanted  you  to  do — to  listen  to  us ;  but  you  are  so 

97 


hide  bound  and  thick  headed  that  nothing  but  a 
sword  or  a  Winchester  can  penetrate  you." 

We  returned  to  the  ranch.  After  the  horses 
were  turned  out  the  general  and  I  interviewed  the 
enlisted  men  and  learned  that  Lieutenant  Coward 
with  one  hundred  men  had  followed  the  Sioux 
Indians  from  the  Arkansas,  keeping  one  day  be 
hind  them;  that  the  band  had  killed  no  less  than 
a  dozen  immigrants  and  half  as  many  ranchers 
during  the  past  ten  days. 

"We  enlisted,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  "be 
cause  we  wanted  to  fight.  We  were  with  the 
soldiers  and  in  plain  sight  of  the  Indians  when 
old  man  Abbott  was  killed,  and  were  ordered 
into  camp  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek  and 
kept  there  until  the  Indians  had  crossed  the  di 
vide  north.  Then  we  were  divided  into  four 
squads.  One  was  sent  west  up  the  Beaver,  an 
other  east,  our  party  coming  over  here,  and  the 
other  sent  back  to  Ft.  Junta  for  instructions.  We 
are  all  sick  and  tired  of  this  horse  play  and  are 
going  to  desert." 

"  Soldiers !"  said  another,  "that  Lieutenant  is 
a  disgrace  to  the  flag  he  follows ;  we  have  a  notion 
to  strip  him  of  his  uniform  and  drag  him  to 
death  at  the  end  of  a  saddle  rope." 

"  He  is  rightly  named  then,"  said  the  general. 

"  Yes,  Coward.  Why,  he  wouldn't  step  on  a 
grub  worm;  we're  going  to  desert  him  and  go 
back  to  work." 

"  Don't  desert ;  that  would  be  disgraceful," 
said  the  general.  "Make  him  give  you  a  dis 
charge.  Was  he  in  command  when  you  en 
listed?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

98 


"  Then  ask  him  for  a  discharge  and  we  will 
see  that  you  get  it." 

The  lieutenant's  head  kept  swelling  until  he 
became  a  very  important  being.  The  enlisted 
men  were  guarding  us,  but  we  wandered  about 
the  ranch  at  will.  The  soldiers  were  sent  back 
to  the  Beaver,  with  instructions  to  overtake  the 
squad  that  had  gone  east  down  that  stream,  and 
bring  them  over  to  assist  in  taking  us  to  the  fort. 
All  went  well  with  the  lieutenant  until  the  next 
morning.  After  breakfast  his  citizen  soldiers 
informed  him  they  had  enlisted  to  fight  Indians, 
and  as  there  appeared  to  be  nothing  to  do  asked 
to  be  discharged. 

"  You  will  be  discharged  when  I  am  through 
with  you.  Take  your  places  on  guard  at  once 
and  see  that  no  one  escapes  from  this  ranch." 

"  No  more  guard  duty  and  no  more  soldier 
ing  under  you.  We  want  our  discharge." 

"  Do  you  refuse  to  obey  my  orders  ?" 

"  We  do.  We  want  our  discharge  or  we  de 
sert,  and  it  won't  be  very  healthy  for  you  if  you 
follow  us  and  try  to  arrest  us." 

"  I'll — here,  prisoners,  I  call  on  you  to  assist 
an  officer  of  the  regular  army.  I'll  arrest  you  all 
and  place  you  in  irons." 

"  Lieutenant,"  said  the  general,  "you  are  a 
fool.  We  have  done  nothing  wrong,  and  have 
treated  you  with  the  respect  due  one  of  your  call 
ing.  You  are  a  disgrace  to  your  country.  Dis 
charge  these  boys  and  let  them  go  their  way. 
Yesterday  when  we  were  all  down  on  the  river 
you  threatened  the  girls  here  because  they  wotdd 
not  sign  a  statement  incriminating  us,  but  I  thank 

99 


God  you  found  in  them  examples  of  true  woman 
hood/' 

"  But  you  are  shielding  some  one  here  who 
took  part  in  the  Indian  massacre  a  few  days  ago 
at  the  canyon. 

"  You  are  speaking  now  of  something  you 
know  nothing  about.  You  may  come  in  the 
house  and  sign  discharges  for  these  boys  and  re 
lease  them  from  further  duty." 

"  I  refuse  to  obey  you,  sir.  You  are  my 
prisoner,  and  have  no  right  to  dictate  what  I 
shall  do," 

The  general  was  the  smaller  man  of  the  two. 
but  it  took  only  a  few  seconds  to  strip  the  lieu 
tenant  of  his  uniform  and  convince  him  that  the 
boys  had  better  be  released.  The  discharges 
were  signed,  handed  out,  and  with  a  wave  of  their 
hats  those  sturdy  fellows  rode  away  across  the 
sand  hills. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  general,  "you  will  come 
with  me,  and  we  will  walk  down  to  the  river 
where  the  girls  are,"  and  the  two  strolled  off  arm 
in  arm  as  though  they  were  the  best  of  friends. 

"  Get  down  on  your  knees,  Mr.  Coward — I 
can't  recognize  your  title — and  make  due  apolo 
gies  for  having  drawn  your  sword  on  them,  and 
for  the  threats  you  made." 

He  obeyed,  and  the  general  took  him  by  the 
arm  and  walked  him  back  to  the  ranch. 

"  You  may  take  your  leave  now  if  you  wish 
and  go  back  to  the  fort,"  continued  the  general. 
"I  ought  to  have  killed  you,  and  would  had  I  seen 
you  standing  before  those  girls  with  drawn 
sword ;  but  since  you  won't  fight  we  will  let  you 
go.  Be  gone  now,  and  never  set  foot  on  the 

100 


Arickaree  again,  or  I  will  kill  you  as  I  would  a 
snake.  Take  this  old  coat  and  hat  and  leave 
yours  and  the  flag  here.  Should  you  ever  have 
command  of  troops  again,  and  hear  the  cry  of 
innocent  men  and  women  who  are  being  butch* 
ered  by  Indians,  go  to  their  assistance  like  an 
American  citizen  and  soldier.  Your  horse  is 
ready  and  we  will  bid  you  good  day,  sir.  As 
soon  as  I  can  get  word  to  the  fort  I  will  see  that 
you  are  courtmartialed  for  cowardice  One  mo 
ment  more,  Mr.  Coward.  You  have  been  calling 
us  your  prisoners.  You  may  sign  a  statement 
releasing  us.  There  now,  if  you  have  any  busi 
ness  in  any  other  locality  you  had  better  get 
there." 

"  I  say,  general,  he  wus  a  purty  big  bluffer, 
wusn't  'e?"  said  Uncle  Jimmy,  as  he  walked 
back  to  the  shade  of  the  house.  "But  I  seen  a 
bigger  coward  'an  him,  when  we  was  fightin' 
Injuns  over  nigh  th'  Julesberg  water  holes  on 
th'  Platte." 

The  major  and  wife,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beverly, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shore  had  to  return  to  Chicago 
on  important  business. 

The  "touch  of  high  life"  the  past  week  had 
been  sufficient  for  them,  so  a  team  was  hitched  to 
the  old  hack  and  they  started  for  Kit  Carson  with 
Uncle  Jimmy  as  driver. 

"  Kind  o'  glad  they  wanted  to  go,"  said  Dan, 
"for  the  driver  '11  get  our  mail." 


101 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  days  seemed  longer  as  the  time  drew 
near  for  the  return  of  the  mail  wagon.  We  had 
thought  little  about  letters  from  home  for  sev 
eral  days,  but  now  all  were  anxious.  Uncle 
Jimmy  returned  in  due  time,  and  there  was  mail 
for  all,  except  Blue  Eye.  The  papers  were 
many  weeks  old,  but  we  read  them,  advertise 
ments  and  all.  That  evening  after  dinner  when 
all  were  seated  in  the  front  yard  the  faces  of  that 
little  gathering  told  a  story  that  words  can  not 
picture.  There  were  as  many  kinds  of  news  as 
there  were  persons  to  receive  it.  Births,  gradua 
tions,  marriages  and  deaths.  All  were  silent, 
thoughtful.  Those  who  had  received  good  news 
were  touched  by  the  sorrowful  faces  of  those 
about  them.  Walter  sat  near  me,  and  when  he 
turned  his  big  honest  face  I  could  see  his  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

"  Walter,"  said  I,  "you  have  my  sympathy, 
for  I  know  you  have  received  bad  news."  He 
arose  and  extended  his  hand  in  reply. 

"  Mother  is  dead." 

This  was  all  he  could  say  for  a  time,  but  we 
saw  he  felt  relieved,  for  his  sorrow  was  too  great 
to  bear  alone. 

"  Dear  old  mother  has  been  dead  almost  a 
month  and  I  didn't  even  know  she  was  sick." 

He  held  the  letter  a  moment,  his  mind,  no 
doubt,  wandering  back  to  the  old  home,  then 
read  aloud : 

102 


"  Her  last  words  were  of  you.  Said  she  could 
have  died  happy  if  you  had  been  here  to  tell  her 
good-bye." 

He  folded  the  letter  and  fell  back  heavily 
upon  his  chair. 

"  God  knows  I  would  have  gone  to  the  end 
of  the  earth  to  see  her/'  he  continued,  "but  this 
is  the  first  mail  I  have  had  for  two  months." 

He  arose  and  walked  slowly  away,  preferring 
to  be  alone  where  he  could  think  of  "dear  old 
mother." 

The  general  extended  his  hand  again  as  he 
left,  and  said: 

"  Walter,  a  sword  hath  pierced  mine  own 
heart  also." 

"Tom's  comin'  back,"  said  Charley. 

"  Your  brother  Tom  ?"  asked  Dan.  "Said  he 
was  going  home  to  stay." 

"  Yas,  but  he's  comin'  back ;  says  as  how  he's 
got  'nough  uv  oP  Mizzury.  Here*  I'll  jis'  read  ye 
part  uv  'is  letter: 

" '  'Taint  like  home,  Charley,  an'  me  heart  is 
sad.  Th'  boys  an'  gals  we  played  with  when 
you  an'  me  wus  here  togeth'r  air  dead  er  gone. 
How  changed  th'  scene!  Th'  big  woods  pas 
ture  whar  we  hunted  possums  an'  coons,  an'  cut 
bee  trees  an'  got  stung  an'  th'  belly  aik  fer  eatin' 
too  much  honey,  'taint  there  no  more.  Yer  can't 
gether  shellbark  hick'rynuts  an'  pawpaws  an' 
wild  grapes  an'  persimmons  in  th'  fall,  ner  dig 
artichokes  an'  sweet  roots  in  th'  spring  time.  Th' 
ol*  homestead's  cut  inter  little  patches  with  a 
railroad,  an'  a  town's  only  a  mile  off.  Th'  hills 
whar  we  coasted  with  our  little  gal  sweethearts 

103 


hez  been  leveled  by  th'  onsweep  o'  men.  Th'  lit 
tle  school  house  whar  we  went  t'  school  one  win 
ter  an*  cut  hick'ry  teeters  an'  made  love  t'  th' 
Mora  gals,  an'  fit  bigger  boys  'an  we  wus,  an'  got 
licked  s'  of'en,  an'  hed  sich  good  times,  is  gone 
too.  An'  ol'  Perfesser  Lake,  he's  dead.  May 
God  speak  peace  t'  thet  gran'  ol'  man's  soul.  He 
give  us  all  th'  book  1'arnin'  we  ever  got,  an*  I 
know  Heaven  is  filled  'ith  men  jis'  like  'im. 
With  san'led  feet  an'  silent  tread  (I  heared  this 
oncet  at  a  big  speakin')  I  went  t'  visit  'is  ol' 
grave,  an'  knelt  an'  prayed  fer  thet  ol'  man,  fer 
you  an'  me.  Charley,  don't  ye  come  back,  fer 
there's  no  one  'at  'ill  r'member  ye.  Ye'll  only  feel 
bad.  Right  by  th'  hole  at  th'  bend  o'  th'  crick, 
whar  we  used  t'  go  in  swimmin'  an'  ketch  mud 
cats  an'  silver  sides,  an'  sometimes  a  big  channel 
cat  we  could  hardly  pull  out,  right  close  by 
they've  bored  a  well  thet  runs  hot  water.  Yes, 
hot  'nough  to  bile  'n  aig  nearly.  It  all  looks  so 
unnatur'l.  I  ast  a  man  thet  hed  been  watchin' 
me,  I  guess,  "Who  heats  thet  water — no  hot  water 
when  I  wus  here?"  He  kind  o'  looked  at  me  an' 
smiled  a  little,  but  he  didn't  say  nothin',  and  I 
jis'  ast  him  ag'in,  "Who  heats  thet  water?" 

" '  "Goddlemighty." 

"  'An'  then  he  smiled  at  me  ag'in  an'  walked 
away.  An'  thet's  th'  kind  o'  ans'ers  ye  git.  Bin 
gone  nigh  onter  twenty  yar,  an'  people  think  I 
orter  know  what's  bin  goin'  on,  I  reckon.  But 
th'  saddest  uv  all,  Charley,  an'  I  ken  hardly  tell 
ye  'bout  it;  th'  little  moun'  yer  r'member  jis' 
back  o'  th'  orchard  whar  we  buried  our  ol' 
father  an'  mother,  an'  wus  orphans  then  an'  no 
next  o'  kin  but  you  an'  me;  they  moved  them 

104 


too,  an'  buried  'em  in  th'  new  cem't'ry,  an'  I  went 
to  see  the'r  restin'  place.  I  took  a  lot  o'  purty 
flowers,  an'  a  man  'at  keeps  th'  place  led  me  to 
the'r  grave,  fer  I  tole  him  who  I  wus.  I  knelt 
down  on  th'  grassy  plot,  but  'twas  like  prayin' 
fer  strangers.  I  planted  a  rose  bush  an'  a 
weepin'  wilier,  an'  as  I  turned  t'  go,  I  ast  th'  man 
t'  see  thet  th'  earliest  buds  o'  spring  'ud  unfold 
the'r  beauties  over  the'r  last  restin'  place,  an'  to 
make  th'  sweetness  uv  th'  summer's  last  rose 
linger  longest.  Then  I  got  some  more  flowers 
an'  went  back  t'  th'  ol'  grave  back  o'  th'  orchard, 
an'  which  is  a  pertater  patch  now  an'  all  leveled 
down,  an'  I  dec'rated  th'  place  what  wus  the'r 
graves.  An'  when  I  shet  my  eyes  I  could  see 
the'r  dear  ol'  faces  a-sleepin'  there  yit.  An'  now, 
good-bye.  I'm  comin'  back  t'  th'  country  whar 
th'  coyotes  howl  one  t'  sleep,  an'  whar  a  man  's 
measured  by  'is  heart  'stead  uv  'is  clo'es.  Our 
ol'  sweethearts  is  both  married  an'  got  smart 
husban's,  I  reckon,  but  they've  lived  here  all 
the'r  lives,  an'  I  don't  think  they  savvy  much 
'bout  th'  country.  They  both  went  t'  St.  Louis 
oncet,  which  you  know  is  fifty-three  mile,  an' 
they  to!'  me  if  th'  country  wus  as  big  west  as  it 
wus  east  she  nuts'  be  a  whopper.  Good-bye.  Tell 
th'  boys  I'm  comin'  back,  sad  't  heart  an'  glad 
t'  git  away  f'om  here.'  " 

"  Well,"  said  Dan,  as  Charley  stopped  reading 
and  brushed  away  a  tear,  "Tom's  place  is  wait 
ing  for  him,  for  I  thought  he  would  be  back. 
And  Kid,  here  is  something  for  you.  I  got  a  let 
ter,  too,  and  it  pleased  me  very  much,  I  tell  you. 
Here,  take  this." 

105 


I  took  the  little  piece  of  paper  he  handed  me, 
walked  over  to  the  light,  and  found  it  to  be  a 
draft  for  three  thousand  dollars  endorsed  to  me. 

"What  is  this  for?"  I  asked,  without  let 
ting  those  present  know  what  he  had  given  me. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "there  was  a  reward  of  one 
thousand  dollars  offered  for  each  of  those  rustlers 
that  were  killed  in  Cottonwood  gulch.  I  re 
ported  that  three  of  them  had  gone  to  their  long 
sleep,  and  the  Cattle  Growers'  Association  of 
Denver  has  paid  the  reward,  sent  me  the  draft, 
and  I'm  happy  to  turn  it  over  to  you." 

"  But  I'm  not  entitled  to  any  reward.  I 
haven't  killed  or  captured  any  rustlers." 

"  No,  but  you  were  the  means  of  ridding  the 
country  of  three  of  the  worst  characters  that 
ever  operated  in  any  community.  The  money  is 
yours  and  I  want  you  to  keep  it." 

"  Since  it  comes  from  the  association  I  will 
accept  it,  on  condition  that  you  return  it    and* 
have  it  made  in  two  drafts  of  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  each,  for  Speck  shall    have  half  of  it." 

This  he  agreed  to,  and  in  due  time  we  re 
ceived  the  money. 

"  You  earned  it  and  more  too ;  and  now,  to 
clear  your  conscience,  if  that  troubles  you  any, 
I'll  show  you  my  commission.  I'm  a  deputy 
United  States  marshal,  and  sewed  into  your's 
and  Speck's  pillows  are  your  commissions.  I 
appointed  you  deputies,  signed  your  papers  and 
tucked  them  away  before  you  started  for  the 
Meadows.  As  citizens  you  were  justified  in  kill 
ing  those  men,  and  as  officers  you  only  did  what 
was  commanded  of  you  to  do — to  break  up  that 

106 


band  of  thieves.     You  did  your  work  well,  and 
the  association  pays  you  this  for  your  trouble." 

All  this  was  news  to  some  of  the  boys,  and 
when  Dan  had  explained  matters  more  fully  to 
them,  they  shook  hands  with  Speck  and  I  and 
congratulated  us. 

"  Ther'  ain't  a  drop  o'  fear  blood  in  er  man 
thet  'ud  crawl  in  a  den  like  thet.  Ruther  go  up 
agin  wild  cats  an'  lions  'an  them  Cottonwood  cow 
thieves,  an'  'twas  a  mir'cle  ye  wasn't  killed  'fore 
Speck  got  there,"  was  the  way  Tomato  Charley 
expressed  his  sympathy. 

Mrs.  Clark  had  pushed  her  chair  up  a  little 
closer  that  she  might  hear  better,  and  the  girls 
came  and  stood  by  me,  resting  their  hands  on 
my  shoulders. 

"  Is  that  where  our  boy  got  this  ?"  asked  Blue 
Eye,  as  she  parted  my  hair,  and  took  a  look  at 
the  big  scar  along  the  side  of  my  head.  "Why 
didn't  you  tell  us  about  that  before?" 

"  I  told  the  foreman  and  did  not  suppose  it 
was  necessary  to  say  anything  to  anybody  else." 

"  Ah,  now  I  know  something.  A  day  or  two 
before  you  and  Tex  came  after  me,  Arkansaw 
Bill  and  Fitz  came  to  the  village  and  I  heard 
them  talking  about  some  one  killing  their  part 
ners.  They  swore  they  would  have  revenge,  and 
suspected  two  of  the  boys  at  the  Meadows." 

"  You  knew  those  two  fellows,  then  ?"  said 
Dan. 

"  Yes.  They  used  to  come  to  the  Indian  vil 
lage  often.  They  were  disreputable  .characters, 
and  I  tell  you  my  revolver  was  always  in  easy 
reach  when  they  were  about.  You  boys  must 

107 


keep  close  watch,  for  they  intend  to  kill  you  at 
sight." 

There  were  many  expressions  of  surprise,  as 
nearly  all  the  riders  present  had  known  Bill  and 
Fitz  for  many  years,  and  thought  they  were  good 
honest  fellows. 

"  More  good  men  gone  wrong,"  said  Charley. 
"Couldn't  r'sist  th'  temptation  t'  git  rich  quick, 
an'  us  eatin'  an'  a  sleepin'  with  'em  ever'  day. 
Never  would  a  b'lieved  it,  'cept  with  pos'tive 
proof.  But  yer  can't  nearly  always  tell  how 
black  er  man's  heart  is  by  th'  broad  smile  uv  his 
face.  Yer  got  t'  look  deeper  'n  thet." 


108 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

There  was  nothing  worthy  of  mention  oo 
curred  at  the  ranch  for  several  days.  A  few  lit 
tle  bands  of  Indians  were  seen  as  they  passed 
through  the  country  on  their  way  back  to  the 
reservation,  and  the  roundup  wagon  and  outfit 
went  out  to  brand  calves  and  gather  beeves.  The 
general  had  bought  the  Rock  Creek  ranch,  in 
cluding  about  three  thousand  cattle  and  two  hun 
dred  horses,  and  gone  over  to  take  charge.  Mrs. 
Clark  returned  to  Chicago  for  a  month's  visit 
and  to  tell  their  friends  they  had  purchased 
a  place  in  the  west  and  would  make  their 
future  home  there.  I  was  sorry  I  had  not 
been  sent  out  with  the  roundup  but  did 
not  complain.  The  girls  assisted  me  in  keeping 
up  the  fences,  and  I  helped  them  fish  and  hunt. 
August  was  nearly  gone  and  the  weather  was 
very  hot.  Dan  called  me  into  his  room  one  even 
ing,  just  after  the  girls  and  I  had  planned  a  trip 
to  Rock  creek,  saying  he  wanted  to  see  me. 

"  I  want  some  one,"  he  began,  "to  go  over  to 
Kit  Carson.  The  boss  will  be  there  about  the 
first,  and  I  can't  go  to  meet  him.  Would  you 
like  to  go?" 

"Certainly,"  I  replied,  "but  I'm  so  busy  I 
don't  well  see  how  I  can  spare  the  time.  Really, 
I  have  been  so  busy  the  last  few  weeks  I  haven't 
had  time  to  draw  my  salary." 

"  That's  just  it.  The  manager  will  be  there 
with  a  little  cash,  and  I  want  you  to  go  and  get  it 

109 


so  I  can  pay  off.  I  think  the  girls  and  I  can  get 
along  all  right,  especially  with  Tobe  and  Uncle 
Jimmy  to  help,  but  no  more  of  that.  We  will 
lose  no  sleep  over  the  days  you  have  been  loafing, 
for  had  I  wanted  you  to  do  more  I  would  have 
told  you.  You  had  better  fix  to  start  day  after 
tomorrow,  for  I  want  you  to  be  there  in  good 
time.  I  will  write  a  letter  so  he  will  know  who 
you  are,  and  if  he  don't  come  by  the  first  of  next 
month  you  can  wire  him." 

I  had  told  Miss  Clark  and  Blue  Eye  that  our 
trip  to  Rock  creek  would  have  to  be  postponed 
on  account  of  the  trip  I  must  make  to  the  rail 
road,  but  said  we  would  go  over  after  I  got  back. 
In  due  time  my  horses  were  made  ready — Mug 
gins,  Brownie,  Bloch  and  Old  Tige — and  I 
bade  them  all  good-bye  and  started  for  Kit  Gar- 
son. 

"  We  are  going,  too,"  said  Blue  Eye,  as  she 
and  Miss  Clark  came  leading  their  horses  out 
of  the  corral.  "Oh,  no,  not  all  the  way;  just  out 
on  the  divide.  We'll  be  back  by  four  o'clock, 
Tobe,"  and  we  waved  our  hands  as  we  rode  away. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  dreams  ?"  said  Miss  Clark, 
as  we  turned  away  from  the  trail  and  started 
across  the  divide  toward  the  Republican  river. 

"  It  depends  some  on  what  kind  of  a  dream 
it  is." 

"  Well,  any  kind.  Tell  us,  do  you  believe  in 
them?" 

"  Now  I  hope  you  girls  haven't  been  seeing 
things  with  your  eyes  shut;  it's  bad  enough  to 
see  them  when  awake." 

no 


"  Yes,  but  this  is  worse,"  said  Blue  Eye. 
"We  both  dreamed  nearly  the  same  thing,  and 
we  are  afraid." 

She  stopped  a  moment,  turned  her  face  away, 
wiped  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief,  and  con 
tinued  :  "We  just  dread  to  have  you  go.  You 
will  be  robbed  or  killed.  I  dreamed  of  two  men, 
and  Miss  Clark  saw  three,  after  you." 

"  Well,  we  must  take  those  dreams  as  good 
omens,  for  dreams  of  that  kind  never  come  true.'' 

"  Yes  they  do,  and  we  just  know  something 
dreadful  will  happen  to  you." 

I  tried  to  get  them  to  talk  of  other  matters, 
but  to  no  effect.  I  would  "surely  be  killed,  and 
must  not  go."  It  was  almost  noon  when  we 
halted  at  the  top  of  a  high  sand  hill.  "There," 
said  I,  "between  those  two  high  bluffs  is  the 
T.  T.  ranch.  I  will  camp  just  below  there  to 
night." 

"  Do  you  know  the  way  to  where  you  are 
going  so  you  won't  get  lost  ?" 

"  Yes,  very  well.  I  came  over  the  trail  from 
Los  Animas  last  spring,  up  the  Big  Sandy  to 
Kit  Carson,  then  across  to  the  Republican.  There 
is  a  good  trail  from  the  river  there.  Back  here 
is  the  Home  ranch.  Be  sure  you  head  off  right, 
and  I  will  say  good-bye." 

"  We  haven't  gone  yet,"  said  Blue  Eye,  as  she 
sat  leaning  forward  with  one  elbow  on  the  saddle 
horn,  and  resting  her  head  in  her  hand. 

"  But  you  must.  You  see  it  is  after  twelve, 
and  you  promised  to  be  back  by  four." 

Neither  answered  me,  nor  made  any  move 
to  go. 

in 


"  Come,  girls,  you  really  must  be  going,"  I 
continued.  "I  want  to  see  that  you  get  started 
back  right,  for  with  no  trail  you  might  lose  your 
way." 

"  Here,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "take  this,"  and  she 
handed  me  a  little  flask  of  brandy,  which  I  took 
and  slipped  into  my  canteenas.  I  then  shook 
hands  with  them,  brushed  away  the  tears  that 
stood  on  their  cheeks  and  waved  them  good-bye 
as  they  started  home. 

I  reached  the  Republican  and  stopped  for  the 
night.  I  ate  a  portion  of  the  lunch  I  had  brought 
and  lay  down  to  ponder  over  those  dreams.  "Two 
men  in  one,  and  three  in  the  other,"  I  said,  talk 
ing  to  myself,  and  with  sixshooter  clasped  in  my 
hand  I  fell  asleep.  I  awoke  the  next  morning 
somewhat  worried,  as  I  had  seen  many  strange 
faces,  and  two  or  three  that  looked  altogether 
too  familiar.  "Just  a  nightmare,"  said  I,  talk 
ing  to  Muggins,  who  had  come  up  for  me  to  take 
the  bell  off  and  get  a  sandwich.  My  bed  was  soon 
rolled  and  carefully  tied  onto  old  Tige;  Brownie 
was  saddled  and  I  started  south  on  that  long 
ride.  Sixty-five  miles  without  water  over  a  hot 
dusty  trail  was  not  a  trip  to  be  enjoyed,  but  by 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon  I  was  seated  in  the 
shade  of  old  Tony's  saloon  waiting  for  the  train. 
I  had  gone  to  the  section  house  and  spoken  for  a 
bed  and  meals,  that  being  the  only  hotel. 

"  Ye  can  git  a  good  shquare  male,"  said  the 
lady  I  found  there,  "but  th'  ixtry  bid  we  hov  is 
rasarved  fer  drummers.  If  no  one  comes  yez 
can  hov  it.  If  they  do,  yez  can't." 

The  train  from  Denver  rolled  in  about  five 
o'clock,  slowed  up,  a  mail  sack  was  kicked  off, 

112 


another  thrown  on,  and  a  big,  fat,  good-natured 
drummer  stepped  off,  and  the  train  was  gone. 

Dinner  over,  we  all  walked  over  to  old  Tony's, 
there  being  no  other  place  to  loaf.  Old  Tony, 
like  the  other  twenty-nine  residents  of  the  place, 
was  not  there  for  his  health,  for  he  worked  his 
men  on  the  section  during  the  day,  then  made 
them  furnish  music  at  his  saloon  at  night. 

"  Come,  ye  domned  Eyetallions,  shtart  up  th' 
music  there,"  we  heard  him  blurt  out  as  the 
drummer  and  I  stepped  in  to  get  a  cigar. 

"  There's  goin'  t'  be  a  big  game  t'noight,  so 
chune  er  up  fer  th'  b'ys." 

Well,  the  music  and  the  game  started,  poker 
at  one  table  and  three  card  monte  at  the  other. 
The  drummer  took  a  hand,  donated  fifty  for  the 
good  of  the  cause,  had  a  row  with  the  dealer, 
hit  a  Mexican  over  the  head  with  his  sixshooter 
and  retired.  I  took  no  part  in  the  game  nor  the 
little  family  quarrel  they  had  about  midnight, 
neither  did  I  attend  the  funeral  of  the  "Eyetal- 
lion"  who  was  too  slow  with  his  gun.  Finally, 
tiring  of  the  drunken  gang,  I  carried  my  bed 
across  the  railroad  back  of  the  section  house  and 
lay  down  for  a  little  rest.  I  knew  I  could  not 
sleep.  All  seemed  anxious  to  know  who  I  was, 
where  I  came  from  and  what  I  was  going  to  do, 
but  I  kept  my  own  counsel.  The  night  wore  away, 
that  is,  the  portion  that  was  left  of  it,  and  I  was 
first  to  reach  the  section  house  for  breakfast. 

"Air  yez  Dan  Powell?"  said  Mrs.  Tony,  ad 
dressing  me  as  I  left  the  breakfast  table. 

"  That  name  will  do  as  well  as  any,"  I  re 
plied. 

"3 


"  Ye're  a  domned  liar.  It's  well  I  know 
Misther  Powell,  an'  yer  not  him." 

"Why  did  you  ask  then?" 

"  Because  I  hov  a  missage  fer  'im,  an'  t'ought 
mebbe  ye'd  come  afther  it." 

"  I  came  here  as  his  representative,  and  if  you 
will  give  me  the  message  I  will  deliver  it  to  him." 

"  Indade,  ye're  a  foine-lookin'  b'y,  an'  since 
th'  missage  is  of  no  importhance,  excipt  some 
wan  is  comin',  I  guess  yez  can  hov  it." 

I  opened  the  telegram  and  read : 

"  If  you  have  reached  Kit  Carson,  answer. 

"  J.  C.  McC." 

I  wired  back,  signing  the  foreman's  name  with 
my  own  initials  attached,  and  received  the  follow 
ing: 

"  Be  there  tomorrow  with  money  for  the  men. 
Must  return  first  train.  J.  C.  McC." 

By  noon  that  day  everybody  in  town  knew 
what  I  was  there  for  and  all  about  my  business. 

When  the  hangerson  around  old  Tony's  want 
ed  to  know  about  mail,  express  or  telegrams,  the 
man  who  handled  these  things  told  them  as 
though  they  were  matters  the  public  should  know. 
I  spent  the  day  reading  a  novel  I  had  picked  up ; 
that  is,  I  read  with  one  eye  and  took  notice  with 
the  other  of  what  was  going  on  about  me. 

Old  Tony's  saloon  faced  north,  was  situated 
about  two  hundred  feet  from  the  railroad  on  the 
opposite  side,  and  about  four  hundred  feet  from 
the  section  house.  I  had  taken  a  chair  that  after 
noon  and  carried  it  around  on  the  east  side  where 
I  could  be  in  the  shade,  and  seated  myself  under 
the  window  so  I  could  hear. 

114 


"  By's,"  said  old  Tony,  "yez  must  git  'im  in 
a  game;  he'll  hov  a  long  sack." 

"  Wall,  I  reckon  we're  onto  that,"  said  one  of 
the  dealers,  "we're  fixin'  the  cyards  now.  If  he 
wins  we'll  break  'er  up  in  a  row,  an'  take  th' 
stuff." 

"  'T  won't  be  hard  t'  do,  nuther,"  put  in  an 
other.  "He  ought  ter  be  back  in  th'  settlements 
with  a  close  herd.  Too  tender  fer  this  country. 
'F  'e  won't  play,  we'll  touch  'im  a'ter  'e  goes  t' 
bed.  An'  'f  we  can't  do  thet,  we'll  jis'  foller  th' 
lad  when  'e  makes  back  fer  th'  river." 

After  I  had  listened  to  them  as  long  as  I 
wished,  I  got  up,  went  into  the  saloon,  threw  a 
dollar  upon  the  bar  and  asked  them  all  to  have  a 
drink.  I  wanted  to  mingle  with  them,  so  I  would 
know  who  had  done  the  talking. 

"  Ever  play  poker,  Kid  ?"  asked  a  Mexican 
they  called  Slim. 

"  No,  never  played  a  game  in  my  life." 

"Want  'o  learn?" 

"  No,  I  have  no  desire  to  learn.  Care  nothing 
about  cards  at  all." 

"  Come  on,  lemme  show  ye." 

"  No,  thanks." 

"  Then  lemme  show  ye  how  t'  play  three  cyard 
monte." 

"  Not  today.  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do, 
though ;  I'll  play  any  one  of  you  a  game  or  two  of 
billiards." 

"  Will  y'u  make  it  five  a  side?" 

"  Yes,  five  or  ten ;  I've  got  to  kill  time  some 
way,  so  pick  your  man  and  we'll  start  in." 

"  Git  yer  cue,  Ike,  and  go  to  'im.  If  ye  win, 
I'll  give  ye  ha'f.  Go  ye  ten,  Kid." 


But  Ike  couldn't  win.  He  lost  three  straight 
games  and  I  was  thirty  dollars  to  the  good. 

"  It's  only  a  tem'prary  loan  we're  makin' ;  jis' 
double  it  an'  git  'er  back." 

"This  is  my  game,  boys,  and  I  will  beat 
you  if  you  go  against  me.  Let's  stop  now." 

"  Come  out  uv  it,  Kid ;  we're  not  tenderfeet. 
When  we've  hed  'nough  we'll  throw  up  th* 
sponge.  Make  it  twenty.  Ye  only  beat  us  four 
p'ints." 

I  did  not  want  to  get  too  well  acquainted,  so 
ran  the  game  out  as  quickly  as  possible,  winning 
by  just  half.  I  put  up  my  cue,  asked  them  all 
to  have  another  drink  and  walked  out. 

"Lookin'  fer  suckers,  air  ye?"  said  one. 

"  Well,  we  didn't  take  'im  on,"  said  another. 

"  Better  cut  'im  out,  Slim,"  said  old  Tony. 

The  gong  sounded,  I  went  to  supper,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  dark  slipped  away,  carrying  my 
bed  across  the  river,  and  got  a  good  night's  sleep. 


116 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  drummer  remained  in  town,  but  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  sleep  in  that  bed  the  next  night, 
for  as  the  day  passed  I  could  see  I  was  being 
watched.  The  entire  population  was  determined 
I  should  learn  to  play  cards,  but  billiards  was  the 
only  game  I  knew,  and  they  had  discovered  they 
could  not  play  that. 

When  the  train  came  in,  only  one  passenger 
got  off.  I  walked  up  to  him,  introduced  myself 
and  received  a  pleasant  greeting.  He  was  anxious 
to  know  all  about  affairs  at  the  ranch ;  what  harm 
the  Indians  had  done,  and  what  had  become  of 
Arkansaw  Bill  and  Fitz.  We  had  reached  the 
section  house,  and  as  we  entered  I  whispered  a 
few  words  to  him,  and  he  understood  he  was  to 
say  nothing  about  anything  until  we  were  alone. 
After  supper  he  went  to  his  grip,  took  out  a  lot 
of  papers,  slipped  me  a  coin  bag  which  I  tucked 
away  inside  my  shirt  bosom,  and  we  walked  down 
to  the  river  to  look  after  the  horses. 

I  then  told  him  all  that  had  happened,  how 
the  gang  around  town  had  learned  all  about  my 
business,  and  asked  him  to  take  the  money  back 
to  Denver. 

"  Nonsense,"  he  replied.  "You  can  lick  that 
whole  crowd,  and  as  to  getting  home  I'll  tell  you 
now  you  won't  have  to  walk.  That  string  of 
horses  will  carry  you  to  the  Republican  and  never 
sweat  a  hair.  Do  you  ever  gamble  ?" 

117 


"  No,  sir,  I  never  play  cards,  but  I  might  get 
held  up." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  that.  Come,  we  must  walk 
back,  as  my  train  is  due  at  nine  thirty,  and  I 
must  go  back  to  Denver.  I  had  to  press  a  point 
to  get  away  at  all,  but  I  was  anxious  for  news 
from  the  ranch.  I  thought  maybe  Dan  would  send 
you  over,  and  I'm  glad  he  did,  for  I  wanted  to 
see  the  fellow  who  made  the  locations  in  Cotton- 
wood  gulch." 

We  reached  the  section  house  just  in  time  to 
get  his  grip  and  catch  the  train.  He  waved  his 
hand  as  the  train  pulled  out,  saying : 

"  Give  my  regards  to  the  boys,  and  tell  them 
I  will  be  at  the  ranch  in  a  few  days  with  another 
month's  salary." 

Twenty-seven  hundred  dollars  in  gold  inside 
my  shirt  resting  on  my  revolver  belt  did  not  feel 
very  comfortable,  so  I  went  back  to  the  section 
house  and  took  possession  of  the  drummer's  room. 
The  building  was  a  two-story  frame  structure, 
with  a  stairway  going  up  from  the  dining  room. 
The  drummer's  room  was  about  ten  by  twelve, 
and  was  cut  off  of  one  end.  The  door  was  made 
of  canvas.  The  remainder  of  the  second  story 
was  left  in  one  big  room  and  contained  four  beds. 
After  acquainting  myself  with  the  surroundings  I 
went  down,  walked  over  to  the  store,  bought  a  set 
of  horse  shoes  and  a  wide  strip  of  lace  leather, 
telling  the  clerk  I  wanted  to  mend  my  saddle.  As 
I  walked  back  I  picked  up  a  fine  Mexican  hat  with 
silk  cord  and  a  rattlesnake  band.  There  had  been 
a  horse  race  on  the  street  and  one  of  the  riders  had 
lost  his  hat,  so  I  took  it,  pulled  off  the  band, 
tucked  it  inside  my  shirt  with  the  money  bag  and 

118 


threw  the  hat  across  the  railroad.  My  saddle  lay 
beside  the  house,  so  I  dragged  it  into  the  light, 
put  in  some  new  lace  strings  and  made  a  new 
strap  for  the  bell.  This  I  stitched  good  and  strong 
and  tied  the  horse  shoes  to  it  ready  to  tie  onto 
Muggins'  neck  the  next  morning. 

The  drummer  had  come  in,  gone  to  his  room 
and  was  sound  asleep. 

"  Mrs.  Tony,"  said  I,  "there's  no  use  talking, 
I've  got  to  have  a  bed  tonight.  The  coyotes  have 
kept  we  awake  three  nights  now,  and  I've  got  to 
have  some  sleep." 

"  There's  nary  a  bed  fer  yez,  an'  yez'll  have  to 
shlape  out." 

"  I  think  I'll  take  the  drummer's  bed,"  I  re 
plied. 

"  Ye'll  not,  ye  dirty  blaggard." 

"  I'll  bet  you  I  do." 

"  Here's  tin  dollars  thot  says  ye  don't." 

"Well,  here  is  ten  dollars  that  says  I  will. 
Do  you  want  to  see  a  little  fun?" 

"  He'll  shoot  th'  head  off  o'  yez  if  ye  go  near 
'im.  Now  moind  phwat  I'm  tellin'  yez." 

I  went  upstairs,  pulled  off  my  boots,  pushed 
the  canvas  door  aside,  and  crawled  under  the  bed. 
I  then  took  the  stuffed  snake  and  reached  up  and 
drew  it  across  the  drummer's  face.  He  gave  a 
yell,  sprang  out  of  bed  and  struck  a  match.  When 
it  got  to  burning  I  drew  the  snake  off  the  bed 
and  he  went  down  stairs  just  like  a  bear  goes 
down  a  mountain.  What  he  and  old  Mrs.  Tony 
said  when  they  met  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  would 
not  look  well  in  print.  I  had  taken  the  snake 
skin,  split  a  toothpick  and  stuck  into  its  mouth, 
and  threw  it  across  the  pillow,  holding  onto  the 

119 


tail  so  I  could  shake  the  rattles.  They  came  to 
the  door,  holding  the  candle  above  their  heads, 
and  peeped  in. 

"  Be  th'  howly  St.  Pathrick !"  said  Mrs.  Tony. 
"It's  shore  a  rattler.  See  it  dart  out  its  farked 
tongue !" 

I  must  omit  again  the  drummer's  language. 
They  went  back  down  stairs,  got  some  sort  of 
grab  hook,  dragged  out  the  drummer's  grip  and 
clothes,  and  left  the  bed  and  room  to  the  snake. 
Now  a  snake  in  a  bed  at  night  has  no  extraor 
dinary  charms,  and  although  the  gang  thought  I 
was  in  that  room,  no  one  molested  me.  With  the 
snake  coiled  on  my  breast  I  got  a  very  good 
night's  sleep. 

"  Gwan,  now,  ye  blaggard,"  said  Mrs.  Tony, 
as  I  came  down  to  breakfast.  "Ye  hov  shnakes 
in  yer  busom,  and  may  th'  divil  fly  away  wid  ye. 
Th'  drummer  left  me  house  in  a  rage,  an  '11  niver 
come  back.  I  wint  over  an'  got  th'  Mixicans 
from  th'  saloon  t'  come  an'  bate  th'  head  off  o' 
yez,  an'  'bout  wan  in  th'  mornin'  we  pulled  th' 
curthan  aside,  an'  there  yez  lay  paceful  like,  wid 
as  foine  a  spicimen  of  th'  prairie  rattler  'bout  th' 
size  of  a  broom  stick  as  ye'd  foind  in  a  day's  ride. 
Whin  we  saw  th'  shnake  curled  so  innicent  loike 
on  yez  brist,  darthing  its  farked  tongue  at  us,  we 
wint  down  shtairs,  touchin'  only  th'  top  an'  bot 
tom  shtips.  We  moight  'ave  hit  wan  more  shtip, 
but  I  don't  ramimber  thot.  Ye  owe  me  five  fer 
board  fer  yersilf  an'  th'  boss,  and  here  is  five  on 
th'  wager.  It's  a  dirty  shnake  charmer  an'  dago 
juggler  ye  air,  an'  do  ye  moind  now,  ye're  niver  t' 
darken  me  dure  agin." 

120 


I  bade  her  good  morning,  picked  up  my  bell, 
and  went  down  to  the  river  a  few  rods  away  and 
got  my  horses.  I  packed  my  bed  on  old  Tige, 
saddled  Bloch,  and  lashed  the  bell  on  Mug 
gins,  for  I  knew  he  would  never  leave  me  no  mat 
ter  what  happened.  I  then  went  over  to  the  sa 
loon  to  get  a  few  cigars  and  bid  the  boys  good-bye. 
None  of  them  would  come  near  me,  so  with  the 
snake's  head  sticking  out  of  my  shirt  bosom  I 
showed  them  a  few  tricks  with  the  cards.  I  told 
them  I  could  spare  an  hour  if  any  of  them  wanted 
a  game,  but  the  bluff  worked  nicely.  No  one 
would  play  me.  Seeing  that  I  would  not  have  to 
back  up,  I  told  them  I  played  with  snakes  as  I 
would  with  a  bit  of  rope,  could  read  the  cards 
as  well  from  the  back  as  from  the  face,  bowed 
myself  out  of  the  saloon,  rode  over  to  the  section 
house,  got  the  lunch  the  "Eyetallion"  cook  had 
put  up  for  me,  and  started  north  over  that  long, 
dusty  trail.  I  had  no  further  fear  from  those 
Mexicans,  but  one  of  them  told  me  later  they 
had  intended  to  follow  and  rob  me  of  the  money 
I  was  carrying. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  I  reached  Sand 
creek,  about  fifteen  miles  out  from  the  station, 
and  although  there  was  no  water  I  stopped  to 
change  horses.  I  saddled  Brownie,  and  as  I 
mounted  he  commenced  to  buck.  What  made  him 
do  it  I  could  never  tell,  unless  he  wanted  to  show 
me  that  he  had  not  forgotten  how,  and  I  am  frank 
to  admit  he  was  a  past  master  in  the  art.  How 
I  managed  to  stick  to  him  is  a  mystery,  but  I 
knew  if  he  threw  me  he  would  run  away  with  my 
saddle  and  that  I  would  probably  never  catch  him. 
When  he  stopped  bucking  I  had  to  get  off  and  lie 

121 


down  for  a  few  minutes,  for  I  was  sick  and  felt  as 
if  the  life  was  jarred  out  of  me.  After  my  nose 
stopped  bleeding  I  felt  some  better,  mounted  and 
started  on.  I  did  not  whip  him,  for  he  was  an 
excellent  roadster  and  could  carry  me  as  far  in 
a  day  as  any  horse  I  had  ever  ridden.  Like  Mug 
gins,  he  would  never  give  up. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  when  I  came  in 
sight  of  the  low  bluffs  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Republican  river.  "The  worst  is  over,  Brownie," 
I  said,  talking  to  my  horse,  for  I  was  giving  him 
a  good  hard  ride  for  the  shaking  up  he  had  given 
me. 

"  Believe  in  dreams  ?"  I  would  ask  myself, 
then  jog  along  for  awhile  half  asleep.  Then  I 
would  rouse  myself  again  and  talk  to  the  horse. 
"Two  men  in  one  dream,  Brownie,  and  three  in 
the  other.  Only  a  few  miles  more,  and  I'll  just 
ride  you  on  in,  you  old  fool.  Won't  you  ever 
learn  to  be  good  ?"  He  neighed  loudly,  quickened 
his  pace,  and  as  I  looked  up  I  saw  two  riders 
coming  up  the  trail.  I  took  out  my  field  glasses 
and  looked  closely,  but  there  was  so  much  dust 
I  could  not  tell  who  they  were.  When  I  got 
within  about  half  a  mile  of  them,  they  turned 
and  rode  back  toward  the  river.  I  pushed  up  a 
little,  and  when  within  about  two  miles  of  the 
river  I  recognized  them.  I  stopped,  caught  Mug 
gins,  and  twisted  the  clapper  out  of  the  bell.  It 
was  Arkansaw  Bill  and  Fitz.  I  knew  I  must  get 
down  to  the  river,  get  water  for  myself  and 
horses,  and  elude  them  in  some  way.  They  had 
sworn  they  would  kill  me  at  sight,  so  I  did  not 
care  for  their  company.  When  they  reached  the 
river  they  turned  to  the  left,  making  it  impossible 

122 


for  me  to  reach  the  T.  T.  ranch  without  riding 
by  them,  so  I  turned  down  the  stream  a  few  rods, 
and  unsaddled,  as  though  I  were  going  into  camp. 
We  were  now  about  a  half  mile  apart.  I  ate  my 
lunch,  but  kept  watching  them  with  the  glasses. 
They  were  sitting  on  the  ground,  and  from  the 
motions  they  made  I  judged  they  were  discussing 
the  different  trails  over  the  divide  to  the  Aricka- 
ree,  and  trying  to  figure  out  which  one  I  would  be 
most  likely  to  take.  I  had  finished  my  lunch  and 
was  wondering  what  to  do.  Muggins  came  up 
and  rubbed  his  head  against  me,  and  I  knew  he 
wanted  the  old  bell  and  horse  shoes  off  his  neck. 
Presently  I  saw  another  rider  come  down  the 
river,  stop  and  talk  with  Bill  and  Fitz,  then 
strike  out  north  over  the  trail  towards  the  head 
of  Cottonwood  gulch.  Bill  soon  followed,  but 
turned  back  onto  the  river  below  me,  so  there  I 
was  with  these  fellows  guarding  the  trail.  It  was 
growing  quite  dark,  but  I  saw  the  fellow  who 
had  started  north  come  back  to  within  about  half 
a  mile  of  me,  dismount  and  lie  down.  As  it  grew 
darker  I  could  see  they  were  all  closing  in  on  me. 
My  first  thought  was  to  bury  the  money  in  the 
river,  and  turn  back  toward  Kit  Carson.  This  I 
decided  would  not  do,  for  their  horses  were  fresh 
and  they  would  soon  overtake  me.  But  get  out  I 
must.  I  knew  Brownie  would  go  home  if  given 
a  little  scare,  so  I  hurriedly  wrote  a  note,  tied  it 
in  his  mane,  picked  up  a  tomato  can  and  tied  it 
to  his  tail.  I  packed  old  Tige,  saddled  Bloch,  and 
put  a  rope  on  Muggins  to  lead  him  with.  I  could 
now  see  nothing  but  the  dim  figures  of  their 
horses.  A  bullet  whistled  over  my  head  from  the 
north.  I  picked  up  some  pebbles,  put  them  into 

123 


the  can,  headed  Brownie  down  the  river  and  gave 
him  a  slap;  the  can  hit  his  heels  and  away  he 
went,  with  old  Tige  galloping  after  him.  They 
headed  northeast,  straight  across  the  divide  for 
home,  with  all  three  of  the  men  who  had  been 
guarding  me  after  them.  I  started  north,  for  I 
knew  they  would  soon  overtake  the  pack  horse, 
and  would  discover,  too,  that  Brownie  had  no 
rider.  They  emptied  their  sixshooters  at  the 
horses,  then  ceased  firing;  the  rattle  of  the  can 
died  away  and  all  was  quiet  save  the  squeak  of 
my  saddle.  I  struck  the  trail  leading  north,  urg 
ing  my  horses  on  as  fast  as  I  could.  I  had  ridden 
about  four  miles  when  I  stopped  to  listen,  and 
could  hear  horses  coming  across  the  hills  toward 
me.  On  I  went  again  at  full  speed,  for  I  had 
now  reached  the  top  of  the  divide.  They  opened 
fire  on  me.  The  bullets  kept  coming  closer  and 
closer,  and  I  felt  my  hair  pushing  my  hat  off.  I 
turned  in  my  saddle,  for  I  felt  they  must  soon 
overtake  me,  and  returned  their  fire.  After  sev 
eral  minutes  of  this  running  fight  one  of  their 
number  gave  up  the  chase,  so  I  knew  I  had  either 
killed  him  or  his  horse,  but  did  not  know  which. 
My  horse  fell,  throwing  me  to  the  ground,  and 
presently  I  felt  some  one  going  through  my  pock 
ets  and  heard  him  searching  my  saddle,  but  could 
offer  no  resistance. 

"  Haint  got  a  damn  cent  *bout  'im ;  but  we've 
plugged  'im  good  an'  plenty.  Guess  'e's  with  th' 
angels  b'  this  time,"  said  one  of  them  as  they  rode 
away. 

My  right  thigh  was  smarting  when  I  recov 
ered,  and  my  left  shoulder  felt  as  if  it  had  been 
torn  away.  I  managed  somehow  to  mount  again, 

124 


but  urge  my  horses  as  I  would,  a  little  dog  trot 
was  as  fast  as  I  could  make  them  go.  I  soon  be 
came  weak  and  sick,  and  after  a  spell  of  vomit 
ing,  felt  as  if  I  were  bleeding  to  death.  Bloch 
stopped,  I  dismounted  and  unsaddled  him,  and 
he  reeled  and  fell  a  rested  horse.  Muggins  was 
all  I  had  left.  I  saddled  him,  gave  him  a  sand 
wich,  climbed  upon  his  back  and  started  on 
toward  the  Arickaree.  How  far  it  was  I  did  not 
know,  but  I  knew  I  must  find  water  or  die  of 
thirst  and  pain.  I  felt  Muggins  weakening  under 
me,  and  got  down  and  walked  awhile.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  brandy,  took  a  big  drink  of  that 
and  felt  better.  I  stopped,  emptied  the  blood  out 
of  my  right  boot,  and  found  I  had  barely 
strength  enough  to  draw  it  back  on  again.  1 
climbed  back  onto  the  pony,  for  I  was  too  weak 
to  walk;  the  strength  the  brandy  had  given  me 
left  again  as  suddenly  as  it  came.  I  took  another 
drink  and  commenced  talking  to  my  horse. 

"  Take  me  to  the  river,  Muggins,  and  if  I  fall 
off  wait  for  me.  Do  horses  believe  in  dreams, 
Muggins?  Two  men  in  one,  and  three  in  the 
other!  Oh,  if  those  two  girls  were  only  here  to 
help  me  home!  Will  Brownie  get  home?  Will 
they  find  the  note  I  tied  in  his  mane?  Will  old 
Tige  go  straggling  in  with  my  bed,  or  has  the 
old  horse  been  killed  and  the  bed  destroyed?" 

These  and  many  other  questions  I  remember 
asking,  but  got  no  answer.  Muggins  was  jog 
ging  on  down  the  trail,  but  where  we  were  going 
and  when  we  would  get  there  I  did  not  know.  I 
took  another  drink  of  brandy  and  felt  a  little 
better. 

125 


"  Ho !"  I  said  to  Muggins,  but  the  horse  had 
already  stopped,  and  putting  my  hand  out  felt  a 
wire  fence.  I  climbed  down,  opened  the  gate, 
mounted  again  and  rode  on  down  the  canyon.  I 
commenced  to  feel  faint  again,  when  Muggins 
plunged  into  a  spring  and  I  rolled  off,  lay  down 
on  the  ground  and  drank  with  him.  I  then  bathed 
my  thigh  and  shoulder,  which  were  paining  me 
terribly.  I  got  up  to  look  about  and  could  see  a 
faint  light  breaking  in  the  east.  To  my  right  I 
could  see  a  clump  of  trees.  Cottonwood  gulch! 
And  the  cold  chills  commenced  to  chase  each  other 
up  and  down  my  back.  There  was  the  tree  where 
I  was  to  be  hanged,  and  up  there  on  the  hill  lay 
the  three  desperadoes  Speck  had  killed.  I  looked 
at  the  trees  again  and  they  seemed  to  be  covered 
with  crepe  or  black  moss. 

"  Come  Muggins,"  I  whispered  to  him,  "I 
shall  die  from  fear.  Let  us  get  out  of  here,"  and 
I  mounted  and  started  on  down  the  canyon. 

I  found  the  place  where  I  had  cut  the  wire, 
when  I  came  out  of  the  pasture  a  few  weeks  be 
fore,  and  was  soon  on  the  trail  headed  for  home. 
But  I  was  growing  weaker  and  felt  sick,  so  I  dis 
mounted,  lay  down  by  the  trail  and  went  to  sleep. 

Something  gave  me  a  jerk  that  woke  me  up.  I 
raised  my  head,  and  Muggins  was  pulling  at  my 
shirt  and  rubbing  his  head  against  me.  I  got  up, 
but  could  not  mount  the  horse,  though  by  hang 
ing  onto  the  saddle  could  walk  a  little.  When  I 
fell,  he  would  wait  for  me. 

"  Go  on  home,  Muggins,"  I  remember  saying 
to  the  horse,  "and  tell  them  what  you  have  in 
the  bell  strap.  I  will  lie  here  and  go  to  sleep." 


126 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

What  happened  the  next  few  days  must  be 
told  by  some  one  else.  I  had  been  found,  taken 
to  the  ranch,  and  when  I  awoke  from  what  seemed 
to  me  a  long  sleep,  the  girls  were  standing  near 
asking  if  I  did  not  recognize  them.  When  I  told 
them  I  did,  they  bent  over  and  kissed  my  aching 
forehead.  The  boys  all  came  in,  but  were  not 
allowed  to  speak  to  me. 

"  Lie  still,"  said  Blue  Eye,  as  she  bathed  my 
face.  "The  doctor  says  you  must  not  talk;  that 
with  perfect  quiet  he  will  pull  you  through." 

"  But  where  have  I  been  ?  Did  you  find  the 
money  ?" 

"  No,  the  money  is  gone,  but  you  must  not 
worry  about  that." 

"  It's  not  gone.  Bring  me  the  bell.  Didn't 
you  find  the  note  I  tied  in  Brownie's  mane  ?  Bring 
me  the  bell  strap." 

"  Poor  boy !  Poor  boy !"  I  heard  the  general 
say,  for  he  had  left  his  ranch  and  come  over  to 
help  nurse  me.  "His  mind  is  wandering  again. 
Would  to  God  we  might  do  something  to  ease  his 
sufferings." 

I  reached  out  my  hand  to  him,  which  he  took 
and  held  for  a  moment,  then  turned,  wiped  his 
eyes  and  walked  away.  I  wanted  to  thank  him, 
but  he  had  left  the  room. 

"  You  must  be  quiet  now,"  said  Blue  Eye,  and 
she  came  back  to  bathe  my  face  and  shoulder 
again. 

127 


"  But  I  want  you  to  bring  me  the  bell  strap," 
I  replied. 

"  Tomorrow,  if  you  are  stronger,"  and  I  was 
soon  asleep  and  did  not  wake  until  the  next  morn 
ing. 

The  doctor  came  and  was  much  pleased  with 
my  condition,  for  I  had  eaten  a  few  bites  and  felt 
stronger. 

"  Can  I  talk  a  little,  doctor?"  I  asked. 

"  Very  little.  You  are  quite  weak  yet,  and 
nothing  must  be  said  that  will  excite  you." 

"  Blue  Eye,  can  I  have  the  bell  strap  now  ? 
The  doctor  says  I  can  talk  a  little." 

She  went  out  to  the  corral,  and  came  lugging 
in  the  bell,  strap  and  horseshoes.  She  and  the 
doctor  were  the  only  ones  in  the  room. 

"  Now  be  a  good  girl,  get  a  knife,  cut  off  the 
horseshoes  and  throw  them  out.  We  have  no 
further  use  for  them." 

When  this  was  done,  I  asked  her  to  cut  the 
lace  string  that  held  the  bell.  She  brought  me 
the  bell,  but  I  told  her  to  throw  that  out  also. 

"I  thought  you  wanted  the  bell,"  said  she, 
looking  somewhat  disappointed. 

"  No ;  the  strap  is  what  I  wanted.  Ever  lift 
as  heavy  a  strap  as  that  ?"  She  brought  it  to  the 
bed,  cut  the  lace  strings  and  poured  the  money 
out  beside  me. 

"  Here's  the  money !  I  knew  we  would  find 
it,"  I  heard  her  say,  as  she  ran  out  to  call  the 
boys.  They  all  came  in,  Dan  counted  the  money 
and  found  more  than  the  payroll  called  for,  so 
left  the  difference,  together  with  what  was  due 
me  in  wages,  lying  beside  me. 

128 


"  Well,  how  did  you  do  it,  anyway  ?"  he 
asked.  "I'm  glad  to  get  the  money  for  the  boys, 
but  that  was  of  small  moment  compared  with  the 
anxiety  we  have  felt  for  you.  We  had  arranged, 
though,  to  pay  it  back  to  the  company;  there 
would  have  been  no  loss  to  you.  The  five  of  us 
here  have  signed  one  hundred  dollars  each,  Speck 
put  in  his  reward  draft  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars, 
and  the  general  has  just  given  me  his  check  for 
the  balance.  When  Brownie  came  home,  we  knew 
something  was  wrong,  and  all  started  out  to  hunt 
you.  We  found  old  Tige  shot  so  badly  that  we 
had  to  kill  him,  and  your  bed  was  scattered  all 
along  the  river,  Tobe  went  up  to  the  T.  T.  ranch, 
and  helped  bury  Fitz  while  there.  They  said  he 
committed  suicide.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
it?" 

I  told  them  my  experience  with  the  people  at 
Kit  Carson,  the  fight  with  Fitz,  Arkansaw  Bill 
and  the  unknown  man  who  followed  me  up  the 
trail  toward  Cottonwood  gulch. 

"  That  makes  matters  plain.  That  unknown 
man  was  Sandy  Delano,  a  disreputable  fellow  who 
hangs  about  Kit  Carson  a  great  deal.  He  came 
over  the  trail  the  day  before  you  did  and  stopped 
at  the  ranch,  and  Bill  and  Fitz  joined  in  the 
scheme  with  him  to  rob  you;  we  are  more  than 
glad,  to  know  you  outwitted  them.  Fitz  will 
trouble  us  no  more,  and  I  only  wish  you  had  got 
Bill  and  Sandy,  too.  Where  is  old  Bloch?" 

"  I  rode  him  to  death.  He  dropped  dead  in  the 
trail  near  the  head  of  Cottonwood  gulch.  I  am 
sorry,  but  there  was  no  time  to  change  horses  on 
that  ride." 

129 


"  Well,  we  will  not  worry  about  the  horse ;  we 
were  simply  wondering  what  became  of  him." 

"  Er  tame  chicken  lays  aigs  at  home." 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?"  said  the  general, 
as  he  turned  to  greet  Tomato  Charley,  who  had 
come  in  from  the  roundup. 

"  Wall,  I  wuz  thinkin'  uv  Fitz.  We  wus 
comin'  down  f'om  West  Beaver  an'  met  Bill  an' 
Sandy,  an'  they  tol'  us  as  how  Fitz  hed  committed 
sideways,  but  we  foun'  out  better  'fore  we  got 
here.  How  air,  ye  Kid?  No  crape  on  th'  door, 
an'  I  guess  ye'll  pull  through,  won't  ye?" 

"  I  hope  so,"  I  replied. 

"  Wall,  yer  will.  I  ken  see  it  in  yer  face ;  an' 
besides,  er  man  whats  got  th'  stuff  in  'im  as  you've 
got  '11  not  die  till  'is  time  comes.  Bill  hed  one 
arm  in  a  sling,  an'  Sandy's  head  wus  done  in 
wet  cloths  an'  brown  paper.  Give  'em  a  run  fer 
the'r  money,  didn't  ye?" 

"  No,  they  gave  me  a  run  for  mine." 

"  But  say,  Dan,"  continued  Charley,  "I  fergot 
t'  tell  ye.  I  got  a  letter  f'om  ol'  Pete  McQuat; 
ye  r'member  him,  don't  ye?" 

"  Yes.  Where  is  he  ?  No  one  has  heard  from 
him  since  he  left  the  range  nearly  two  years 
ago." 

"  He's  in  Honerlula,  an'  he  wants  me  t'  come 
down  thar.  I'll  jis'  read  ye  th'  letter.  No,  I 
can't  either,  fer  he  gits  in  too  many  hiferlutin' 
words.  Gen'al,  you  read  it.  Ye  see  ol'  Pete 
wuz  mighty  well  edicated,  an'  I'd  spile  th'  beauty 
uv  'is  lang'age." 

The  general  took  the  letter  and  read  as  fol 
lows: 

130 


"  And  now,  Charley,  something  about  the 
country  and  its  people.  It's  a  land  of  pretty 
women.  Even  the  children  of  other  nations  take 
on  something  of  the  beauty  of  the  climate,  and 
American  girls  born  here  are  phantoms  of  delight. 
The  Kanaka  women  possess  a  clear,  dark  skin, 
black  sensuous  eyes  that  alternately  sparkle  and 
melt;  small  hands  and  feet,  and  figures  that  are 
perfect.  Light-heartedness  and  tenderness  are 
characteristic.  They  age  early  like  females  of  all 
tropical  climes,  but  when  young  are  irresistible. 
It  was  a  good  thing  for  St.  Anthony  that  his  vis 
itants  were  not  of  the  Kanaka  race.  On  these  sea 
faring  islands  many  a  man  has  sunk  into  lethargy, 
1  his  people  forgetting  by  him  forgot/  The 
years  pass  like  the  promises  of  friends  to  return 
the  ten  they  owe  you.  Yesterday  is  as  today,  and 
today  as  tomorrow. 

"  A  story  is  told  of  an  old  man  here,  whom  his 
countrymen  found  and  offered  a  passage  home. 
He  laughed  and  slyly  shook  his  head,  and  why 
not?  'Here/  said  he,  'is  rest  and  pleasant 
dreams.  Around  you  rolls  the  blue  expanse  that 
looks  so  fair  and  is  so  cruel.  Its  fish  will  feed 
you,  and  the  wine  of  the  banana  will  make  you 
glad.  The  girls  will  love  you,  so  stay  with  me. 
Si,  Senor,  stay  with  me/ 

"  Man  and  woman  do  pretty  much  as  they 
please  so  long  as  they  do  not  injure  their  neigh 
bors.  There  is  not  more  immorality  than  else 
where,  but  a  freer  system  of  living.  It  is  a  sum 
mer  always,  and  the  siesta  is  a  fixed  institution. 
Hammocks,  inviting  to  repose,  are  to  be  seen 
everywhere.  Flowers  are  in  profusion  and  their 
scent  is  in  the  air.  Languor  compels  quiet,  but 


there  is  no  necessity  for  exertion.  Soft  blow  the 
breezes,  and  the  dull  boom  of  the  ocean  lulls  to 
slumber.  There  are  great  opportunities  here  for 
Americans,  provided  they  retain  their  energy,  but 
I  doubt  very  much  if  they  can  do  that.  They  will 
be  happy  in  these  modern  hesperides,  but  they  will 
probably  lose  their  reverence  for  the  almighty  dol 
lar.  Under  the  shadow  of  the  great  Mauna  Loa, 
whose  burning  heart  smoulders  through  the  cen 
turies,  life  is  pleasant,  the  Lotus  is  eaten,  and 
men  and  women  dream." 

"  I'll  go  down  thar,  mebbe,"  said  Charley, 
when  the  general  had  finished  reading  and  handed 
him  back  the  letter. 

"  Th'  girls  will  love  ye,  an'  men  an'  women 
dream.  Wall,  thet's  nothin'  agin  a  country,  I 
reckon." 


132 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

It  was  the  last  of  September,  before  I  was 
able  to  be  out,  and  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to 
be  riding  about  assisting  with  the  work,  instead 
of  lying  in  bed  or  being  propped  up  in  an  easy 
chair.  Blue  Eye  and  Miss  Clark  had  nursed  me 
with  the  same  care  my  sisters  would  have  done, 
and  to  them  I  owe  my  life  today.  For  without 
them  I  think  I  should  have  given  up  the  fight. 
They  would  ride  far  across  the  sand  hills  and 
up  the  canyon  to  gather  wild  flowers  for  me, 
and  then  sit  by  me  and  read  from  what  few 
books  there  were  around  the  ranch.  But  with 
all  their  kindness,  I  felt  as  one  released  from 
bondage  when  I  could  go  out  with  them. 

The  general  would  come  over  to  see  me  oc 
casionally,  and  tell  me  of  a  hunting  trip  he  had 
arranged  far  out  beyond  the  head  of  Rock  creek, 
and  this  increased  my  longing  to  be  out  doors 
again.  I  had  often  begged  the  girls  to  tell  me 
how  they  happened  to  find  me,  and  what  all 
had  been  done  and  said  while  I  lay  there  at 
the  ranch,  but  the  best  I  could  get  was  a  promise 
to  do  so  some  time. 

We  had  ridden  up  the  river  about  six  miles 
one  morning,  when  Blue  Eye,  turning  to  me, 
said: 

"  There  is  where  you  lay  when  we  found 
you,  but  we  must  ride  on.  This  is  too  sad  a 
place  for  me." 

133 


"  And  I  cannot  bear  to  linger  here,  either," 
said  Miss  Clark. 

"  Let's  go  up  that  gulch  and  sit  in  the  shade 
of  those  little  hackberries,  and  you  tell  us  all 
about  what  happened  after  the  day  we  left  you, 
the  day  you  started  to  Kit  Carson,  then  we  will 
tell  you  our  end  of  the  story." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  dreams,  now  ?"  asked 
Blue  Eye,  after  I  had  given  them  all  the  details 
of  the  trip.  "Surely  you  do." 

"  Never  mind  about  that ;  tell  me  what  has 
been  going  on.  There  was  so  much  I  could  not 
remember,  and  I  am  anxious  to  know." 

"  There's  one  thing  you  haven't  told  us 
yet.  What  induced  you  to  hide  that  money  in 
the  bell  strap?" 

"  Well,  I  feared  I  would  be  robbed,  so  I  hid 
the  money  in  there,  and  then  tied  those  horse 
shoes  on  to  make  weight.  The  money  I  carried 
was  nearly  all  gold,  but  if  anyone  had  felt  of 
the  strap,  they  would  naturally  think  the  shoes 
gave  it  the  weight  and  not  search  any  further. 
Now,  I  hope  that  clears  up  the  mystery  of  the 
bell  strap." 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "and  how  un- 
thoughtful  we  were  not  to  look  there  for  the 
money.  You  kept  telling  us  to  cut  open  the  bell 
strap,  but  we  never  thought  once  to  do  it.  We 
just  felt  sure  you  would  never  get  back  alive, 
but  dared  not  tell  the  boys  about  our  dreams. 
They  would  have  called  it  a  'fool  notion  of  ours,' 
and  teased  us  for  our  interest  in  you.  Well, 
Brownie  came  home  that  morning  and  he  looked 
a  sorry  sight.  Speck  came  running  in  to  tell 
us,  but  he  was  so  excited  he  could  scarcely  speak. 

134 


We  all  rushed  out,  and  I  found  the  note  tied  in 
his  mane.  I  was  too  eager  to  see  what  news  it 
contained,  for  I  tore  it  in  two  and  must  have  lost 
part  of  it.  All  I  could  make  out  was  that  you 
were  at  the  river,  surrounded  by  those  men ;  that 
you  would  start  old  Tige  and  Brownie  down  the 
river  and  try  to  make  your  escape  north  toward 
Cottonwood  gulch.  The  horses  were  all  out 
in  the  pasture,  and  although  it  was  only  a  few 
minutes  until  they  were  up  and  saddled,  those 
minutes  seemed  an  age.  Tobe  and  the  foreman 
went  across  the  sand  hills,  and  Miss  Clark,  Speck 
and  I  went  up  the  river.  It  was  about  nine  o'clock 
when  we  sighted  Muggins,  and  when  we  rode  up 
he  was  rubbing  his  head  against  you,  evidently 
trying  to  wake  you  up.  We  carried  you  down 
to  the  river  somehow,  gave  you  a  drink  and 
bathed  your  face  and  shoulder.  You  talked  of 
bells,  snakes,  billiards,  three  card  monte,  and 
poker,  but  said  you  never  played.  I  think  you 
cursed  Bill  and  Fitz  a  little,  but  I  don't  remem 
ber.  We  finally  got  you  onto  Speck's  horse,  but 
it  took  all  three  of  us  walking  beside  you  to  keep 
you  there.  When  we  got  you  to  the  ranch,  Speck 
went  to  Binkleman  for  the  doctor.  All  we  could 
do  was  to  bathe  your  wounds  in  cold  water  and 
keep  you  quiet.  It  was  late  the  next  day  when 
the  doctor  came.  He  looked  at  you  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  shook  his  head  and  walked  away. 

"  'I  fear  I'm  too  late,'  was  all  the  hope  he 
gave  us.  'You  girls  have  done  all  you  could,  but 
such  wounds  as  these  needed  better  treatment.' 

"  He  stayed  with  you  until  the  next  morning, 
and  agreed  to  come  back  in  a  couple  of  days.  He 
then  told  us  you  might  pull  through.  All  the 

135 


time  you  kept  talking  about  the  money  and  the 
bell  strap,  but  we  never  thought  once  to  look  for 
it  there.  Speck  had  cut  the  strap  and  dropped 
bell,  horseshoes  and  all  in  the  corner  of  the  cor 
ral,  and  there  they  lay  until  I  went  out  and  got 
them  for  you.  You  know  what  joy  there  was  in 
the  old  ranch  when  we  found  the  money.  Miss 
Clark  and  I  just  hugged  each  other  we  were  so 
happy,  and  we  would  have — " 

"  Well,  say  it,  Blue  Eye,"  said  Miss  Clark. 

"  Well,  we  would  have  hugged  you,  too,  if 
the  doctor  had  not  been  there.  But  I  must  tell 
you  about  Uncle  Jimmy.  Of  course,  he  had  seen 
a  man  shot  up  much  worse  than  you  were,  and 
the  weather  was  warmer  at  the  time,  too.  When 
the  money  didn't  show  up  he  said  it  was  an  easy 
matter  to  lose  that  amount  at  cards,  even  in  one 
night,  and  then  shoot  yourself  to  avoid  sus 
picion.  This  angered  the  foreman  so  that  he 
threatened  to  discharge  the  old  man.  After  that 
he  was  very  kind  and  agreeable.  And  Speck! 
That  Dutch  boy  loves  you  as  he  does  no  one  else. 
You  should  have  seen  what  pleasure  it  gave  him 
to  turn  over  that  draft  to  help  make  good  your 
supposed  loss.  He  knew  if  the  money  was  gone 
you  had  been  robbed,  and  no  sacrifice  seemed  too 
great  for  him  to  make.  Muggins,  that  dear  old 
pony,  shall  have  green  pastures  and  a  comfort 
able  stable  as  long  as  he  lives.  'Twas  on  him  that 
we  made  our  escape  from  the  Indians,  and  he 
again  proved  his  worth  when  he  would  not  leave 
you  when  you  fell  by  the  trail.  See  those  white 
hairs  coming  on  the  bottom  of  his  neck?  That 
was  all  raw  there  where  those  horseshoes  rubbed 
him  when  carrying  the  money.  We  cared  well 

136 


for  him,  giving  him  a  pan  of  bread  each  day ;  and 
I'll  tell  you,  Muggins,"  she  continued,  as  she 
went  and  flung  her  arms  about  the  horse's  neck, 
"if  anyone  ever  strikes  or  abuses  you  when  I'm 
around,  there  will  be  trouble.  I  thought  I  loved 
my  old  Roany  horse,  but  you  are  the  prince  of 
them  all.  Oh,  say!  What  became  of  the  snake 
you  scared  old  Mrs.  Tony  and  the  drummer 
with  ?" 

"  I  must  have  lost  it  while  those  fellows  were 
chasing  me.  I  will  have  to  get  another  before 
I  go  back  to  Kit  Carson.  Those  people  over 
there  think  I'm  a  snake  charmer,  and  I  must  be 
prepared  to  make  good." 

"  Can  you  charm  snakes — real  rattlesnakes  ? 
How  do  you  do  it?  We  want  to  know,"  said 
both  of  the  girls  at  once. 

"  Well,  it's  one  of  the  easiest  things  in  the 
world.  First  you  find  the  snake — " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  we  know  that ;  go  on." 

"  All  right.  We  will  return  to  the  ranch,  and 
as  we  ride  along  I  will  tell  you.  Find  the  snake, 
then  wait  for  it  to  coil ;  keep  out  of  striking  dis 
tance;  take  your  sixshooter — " 

"And  then  what?" 

"  Shoot  its  head  off.    The  rest  is  easy." 


137 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  general  invited  me  to  spend  the  winter 
at  the  Rock  Creek  ranch.  Blue  Eye  had  told  me 
she  was  going  to  stay  there  until  Christmas,  and 
perhaps  longer,  so  I  accepted  the  invitation,  sent 
my  bed  and  clothing  over  and  was  waiting  for 
the  boys  to  come  in  from  the  roundup. 

Those  who  went  up  to  the  Meadows  had  re 
turned  and  told  us  the  Indians  had  cut  the  pas 
ture  fence  in  a  number  of  places,  burned  the 
ranch  buildings  and  destroyed  the  corrals.  I  told 
the  foreman  I  did  not  feel  strong  enough  to  work 
that  winter,  so  after  making  me  promise  to  re 
turn  in  time  for  the  spring  roundup,  he  paid  me 
off. 

"  You  can  stay  here  at  the  same  wages,  if 
you  want  to  winter  with  us." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "that  would  not  be  right.  I 
can't  earn  wages,  and  do  not  expect  something 
for  nothing." 

"  Well,  it  isn't  that ;  you  have  earned  the 
company  many  times  what  they  have  paid  you. 
Come  back  whenever  you  want  to,  for  I  shall 
save  your  string  of  horses  for  you." 

I  thanked  him,  said  "Klahowya"to  all  the  boys, 
mounted  Muggins  and  rode  over  to  Rock  creek. 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  you  have  come,"  said  the 
general,  as  I  dismounted.  "I  was  afraid  Dan 
would  persuade  you  to  stay  at  the  Three  Bar.  He 
is  very  fond  of  you,  and  I  would  not  think  of 
asking  you  to  leave  him  if  you  were  able  to  work, 

138 


but  you  are  not.  Blue  Eye  is  going  to  spend  the 
winter  with  us,  too,  so  we  will  all  pass  the  time 
here  together.  We  have  become  so  attached  to 
you  both  that  it  would  be  lonesome  without  you. 
Go  into  the  house  and  I  will  take  Muggins  clown 
to  the  stable  and  feed  him." 

"  God  bless  that  kindhearted  man,"  I  remem 
ber  saying  to  myself,  as  he  led  my  horse  away. 
Here  was  rest  and  a  hearty  welcome — a  home 
with  people  in  whose  presence  one  could  feel  an 
attachment  that  was  simply  sublime;  no  false 
pride,  but  a  love  that  was  deep  and  lasting. 

"  Oh,  we  are  so  glad  you  have  come,"  said 
the  girls,  as  they  came  out  to  meet  me.  "We 
have  everything  arranged  for  that  hunting  trip, 
and  were  just  waiting  for  you,"  and  arm  in  arm 
we  walked  to  the  house. 

"  Getting  impatient,  were  you  ?" 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  Blue  Eye.  "We  expected 
you  a  week  ago.  There  is  a  nice  herd  of  buffalo 
just  a  few  miles  from  here,  and  we  must  get  them 
before  they  leave  the  creek." 

"  Sorry  I  kept  you  waiting,  but  I  could  not 
leave  until  all  the  boys  got  in;  but  I'm  here  and 
can  go  any  time  the  rest  of  you  are  ready." 

"  We  will  go  at  once,  for  this  is  October,  you 
know,  and  there  is  liable  to  be  a  blizzard  any 
time.  Nice  weather  yet,  all  right,  but  a  week 
might  bring  a  storm,  and  we  will  be  gone  almost 
that  long." 

"Then  we  will  start  tomorrow,"  said  Miss 
Clark,  as  her  father  came  up  from  the  stable.  I 
would  be  disappointed  if  we  did  not  get  to  go. 
Can't  we  start  tomorrow?" 

139 


"  No,  not  until  day  after  tomorrow.  That 
will  be  Monday,  and  old  Bud  will  be  back  to 
help  with  the  work  by  that  time." 

"Two  more  sleeps,  as  the  Indians  say,"  said 
Blue  Eye,  "and  one  more  day's  target  practice. 
Did  I  tell  you  we  were  getting  to  be  experts  with 
the  sixshooter?" 

I  shook  my  head,  and  she  continued: 
"  Well,  we  are,  and  if  we  run  into  a  band  of 
Indians — but  there  are  no  Indians  in  the  sand 
hills  now,  they  have  all  gone  into  winter  quarters 
and  are  smoking  their  meat.  When  that  is  done, 
they  have  a  big  feast,  then  a  fast,  at  the  close  of 
which  a  sort  of  inventory  is  taken,  and  the  rations 
are  doled  out  through  the  winter  months  accord 
ing  to  the  amount  of  provision  on  hand,  and  the 
number  to  eat  it.  A  well  fed  Indian  is  generally 
peaceable,  but  a  hungry  one  is  vicious.  They  are 
too  lazy  to  hunt  or  fish,  except  a  day  or  two  now 
and  then,  and  when  winter  approaches  it  usually 
finds  them  with  about  half  as  much  meat  as  they 
should  have.  When  the  snow  falls  and  no  game 
is  to  be  had,  they  blame  the  paleface  and  com 
mence  holding  councils  of  war.  The  young 
bucks  at  once  lose  control  of  themselves,  if  it 
might  be  termed  control,  and  the  peace  pleas  of 
the  old  chiefs  are  then  as  useless  as  they  are 
eloquent.  Those  who  have  suffered  from  long 
marches  and  felt  the  sting  of  bullets,  only  go  to 
war  when  forced  to  by  the  younger  men  of  their 
tribe.  If  it  has  to  be  war,  they  know  they  must 
lead  or  be  branded  as  cowards  and  shot.  So  it  is 
fight  the  paleface  or  be  murdered  by  the  next  of 
kin,  who  is  only  waiting  to  be  chosen  chief.  I 
remember  a  council  meeting  held  last  year  on 

140 


West  Beaver.  There  were  representatives  pres 
ent  from  nearly  every  tribe  west  of  the  Missouri, 
and  such  a  gathering!  Clothe  an  Indian  with  a 
few  extra  beads  and  feathers  and  a  little  author 
ity,  and  he  at  once  assumes  an  air  indicating,  'the 
world  is  mine.'  Of  them  all  the  Sioux  are  the 
greatest  orators.  The  Bannocks  and  Nez  Perces, 
of  Idaho,  are  great  pleaders,  but  not  so  eloquent. 
The  Cheyennes  and  Arapahoes  refer  too  much  to 
self,  while  the  Spokanes  and  Siwashes,  of  Wash 
ington,  make  up  in  grunts  what  they  lack  in 
words,  but  they  all  know  when  to  cheer.  At  this 
meeting,  Chief  Gray  Wolf,  of  the  Sioux,  made  a 
great  speech,  but  I  could  not  appreciate  it,  as  I 
did  not  understand  their  language  well  enough. 
He  was  frequently  interrupted  by  the  Siwashes 
and  Spokanes,  who  marched  around  him  and 
shouted,  'Skookum  wau  wau'  (big  talk).  He 
told  me  afterwards  that  this  was  the  highest  com 
pliment  they  could  pay  him.  Their  language  is 
not  susceptible  of  expressing  greater  praise.  But 
I'm  getting  reminiscent  and  must  stop.  A  Ken- 
tuckian  cannot  help  admiring  a  great  orator,  even 
though  he  be  an  Indian.  It's  their  nature.  We 
are  passionately  fond  of  three  things — eloquent 
speakers,  fast  horses  and  good  songs." 

"  And  we  of  the  north,"  said  the  general, 
"love  good  entertainers,  people  who  can  tell  us 
something  new.  Tell  us  more  about  those  In 
dians." 

"  Not  now.  Their  warriors  are  so  terribly 
cruel  that  my  feelings  would  overcome  me  if  I 
were  to  continue.  In  moments  of  thoughtlessness 
I  try  to  forgive  them,  but  their  wrong  was  too 
great.  They  have  icy  hearts,  and  their  hands  are 

141 


steeped  in  innocent  blood.  Come,  Me-Me,"  she 
said  to  Miss  Clark,  "we  must  take  Muggins  a 
sandwich.  Me-Me  in  Chippewa  means  beautiful, 
kind  and  innocent.  Me-Me,  fair  one — but  you 
are  blushing,  so  I  will  stop.  I  must  call  you  that, 
though,"  and  she  does,  even  to  this  day. 


142 


CHAPTER  XXL 

The  next  day  Tomato  Charley  and  Speck 
came  over  bringing  mail  that  had  been  sent  to 
Kit  Carson. 

I  received  a  nice  letter  from  the  Association 
at  Denver,  and  a  draft  for  the  reward  that  had 
been  offered  for  Fitz. 

"  Ye  see,"  said  Tomato  Charley,  "we  hed  a 
good  excuse  t'  come.  There  wus  letters  t' 
bring,  an'  we  kind  o'  wanted  t'  see  ye  all  afore 
th'  snow  flies." 

"  We  are  going  out  after  buffalo  tomorrow," 
said  the  general.  "Won't  you  go  with  us?" 

"  Wall,  I  guess  we  might  jis'  's  well  's  not. 
Ther'  ain't  much  doin'  at  th'  ranch  now,  an*  we 
tol'  th'  boss  as  how  we  might  stay  a  week,  ef 
th'  atmospher'  wus  all  right.  We  bro't  an  extra 
hoss  apiece,  so  we'll  jis'  take  a  little  vacation. 
Lots  o'  wild  hosses  's  well 's  buffalo  out  beyant  th' 
head  o'  th'  crick,  too." 

"  Is  there?"  said  Blue  Eye,  "ever  out  there?" 

"  Yes'm  lots  o'  times.  Know  them  san'  hills 
better  'n  my  neighbors." 

"  Well,  I  presume  you  do,  if  you  have  ridden 
the  creek  very  often,  for  neighbors  in  this  coun 
try  are  sixty  miles  apart,  and  the  sand  hills  are 
piled  on  top  of  each  other." 

"  Thet's  it,  an'  one  hill  looks  tis'zackly  like  th' 
other  nearly,  an'  when  yer  lost,  ye  might  as  well 
try  t'  fatten  yer  hoss  by  feedin'  him  on  'is  tail  's 
t'  try  t'  tell  one  hill  f 'om  th'  other ;  yet  ther'  dif- 

143 


fer'nt  some,  I  reckon.  I  r'member  one  time  's  we 
wus  comin'  over  th'  trail,  f'om  Big  Sandy  an' 
we  all  got  lost.  Th'  cattle  'd  stampeded  an' 
lef  th'  trail,  an'  we  couldn't  find  it  no  more.  It 
got  dark,  we  hed  no  water,  an'  th'  hills  all 
looked  'like.  Wall,  we  'd  go  one  way  'while 
an'  then  th'  other.  Ev'ry  rider  in  th'  bunch — I 
think  ther'  wus  six  uv  us,  no,  five — knowed  th' 
way  t'  th'  river.  Wall,  th'  fact  wus,  not  airy  one 
uv  us  knowed  which  way  it  wus  f'om  us.  We 
rode  our  hosses  down,  an'  fin'ly  we  come  crosst 
an  imigrant  wagon,  an'  th'  feller  showed  us  th' 
way  to  it.  Choked!  Jis'  nearly  dead  fer  a  drink, 
an'  I  ast  fer  water." 

"'Nothin'  but  col'  tea,'  sez  'e,  'an'  I  need 
thet.'  An'  he  turned  up  th'  can  an'  drunk  it  all 
hisse'f.  Yas,  took  it  all.  I  ast  'im  why  'e  didn't 
give  us  a  swaller  apiece,  an'  says  'e,  'Boys,  ye 
cain't  never  git  no  sat'sf action  by  scratchin'  th' 
other  feller's  laig  when  yourn  itches.' 

"  Wall,  thet  taught  me  two  lessons.  One 
wus  t'  take  kere  o'  m'self  first;  'nother  wus  t' 
study  th'  san'  hills,  an'  never  be  'thout  somepin' 
t'  drink.  Now,  I  know  all  th'  country,  an'  am 
never  'thout  a  can  o'  tomaties  somewhare  'bout 
me,  an'  thet's  how  I  got  m'  title ;  but  th'  tomaties 
has  saved  m'  life  more'n  oncet,  I  reckon." 

"  And  that  is  why  the  boys  put  the  prefix  to 
your  name,  is  it?"  asked  the  general. 

"  Yas,  but  I'd  ruther  be  called  a  Piute  than  t' 
be  thirsty  an'  have  nothin'  t'  drink,"  and  all 
agreed  with  him. 

The  next  morning  bright  and  early  we  all 
started  up  the  creek.  The  party  consisted  of  the 
general  and  wife,  the  two  girls,  Charley,  Speck 

144 


and  myself,  and  Pete,  the  Mexican,  who  did  the 
cooking  and  drove  the  mess  wagon.  The  first 
night  out  we  camped  at  old  Red's  place,  an  old 
German  who  owned  a  small  tract  of  land  at  the 
head  of  the  creek.  He  was  one  of  those  who 
wanted  to  be  alone,  and  wondered  why  other 
men  did  not  go  and  take  up  a  claim  and  live  as 
he  did.  He  owned  no  stock  except  a  couple  of  sad 
dle  horses,  and  spent  the  summer  months  in  the 
Rocky  mountains  prospecting.  When  driven  out 
by  the  snow  he  would  come  down  to  his  ranch 
and  spend  the  winter  there,  living  on  buffalo 
meat,  beans  and  crackers.  For  twenty  years  he 
had  put  in  his  time  this  way,  and  was  still  dream 
ing  of  the  rich  mine  he  would  find  next  year.  One 
corner  of  his  cabin  was  piled  full  of  queer  look 
ing  rock,  but  the  trouble  with  the  old  man  was, 
he  did  not  know  quartz  from  sandstone.  After 
showing  \is  all  his  specimens  and  giving  us  a  his 
tory  of  each  year's  travels,  he  got  down  behind 
his  cook  stove  and  brought  out  a  piece  of  rock 
that  he  kept  wrapped  in  his  best  bandana. 

"  Now,  I  vill  show  you  some  fine  sbecimens," 
said  he,  as  the  kerchief  was  brought  out. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  call  it,  Red  ?"  asked  the 
general,  as  he  looked  it  over. 

"  Dond  you  know  vot  dot  is  yet  ?  Dat  vill 
make  der  piggest  mine  in  der  Rocky  moundains 
alretty,  und  I  go  pack  next  sbring  und  make  der 
logation.  Vhen  I  pick  upe  dot  specimen,  I  take 
him  mit  der  expert  to  Tenver,  und  he  say,  'Red, 
dot  is  fine.  You  can  put  a  million  tollars  in  dot 
brosbect,  if  you  haf  him." 

"  Well,  now,  we  are  not  miners,  but  that  looks 
like  a  piece  of  very  common  rock.  There  may  be 


a  little  bit  of  iron  in  it,  but  that  is  all.  What 
did  the  expert  call  it?" 

"  Veil,  he  call  him  some  new  names,  dot 
sounds  bretty  pig." 

"Yes?" 

"  Yaw,  he  call  him  pyr'tes  ufe  assessment, 
und  say  vhen  I  haf  some  more  pipe  treams  al- 
retty  I  fin'  some  tings  pretty  quick  oudt.  Now 
aindt  dot  goot?"  and  he  wondered  why  we  all 
laughed. 

"  Red,"  said  the  general,  "let  me  give  you 
some  good  advice.  Stop  chasing  pyrites  of  as 
sessment,  get  a  few  cattle  and  settle  down  on 
your  ranch.  Here  you  have  an  abundance  of 
water,  free  range,  and  could  soon  be  a  wealthy 
man  if  you  would  try.  For  twenty  years  you 
have  prospected,  and  today  you  do  not  know  ore 
from  a  cow's  horn.  That  piece  of  rock  will  not 
assay  ten  cents  a  ton.  Don't  prospect  any  more, 
but  stay  here  on  the  creek.  I  will  give  you  a  few 
cows  if  you  will  take  care  of  them  and  the  in 
crease." 

"  Veil,  I  tink  it  over  vonce  alretty,  und  I  let 
you  know." 

The  next  morning  as  we  were  breaking  camp, 
Red  came  out  and  asked  us  to  stop  on  our  way 
back. 

"  I  go  down  mit  der  railroadt  vonce  now  to 
pring  me  upe  some  schmoke  toback  und  ghrub. 
But  you  can  shtay  py  ter  ranch.  You  been  vel- 
come  mit  dot  house." 

"We  appreciate  your  kindness,  Red,"  said 
the  general,  "and  we  will  probably  stop  as  we 
come  back.  Now  how  about  the  cows?  Do  you 
think  you  can  give  up  prospecting,  and  settle 

146 


down  here  and  take  care  of  a  little  herd  of 
cattle?" 

"  No,  I  tink  not.  I  go  pack  mit  der  moun- 
dains  next  summer,  und  I  shtrike  him  rich." 

"  Well,  one  cannot  help  admiring  the  splen 
did,  and  even  magnificent,  way  in  which  you  go 
wrong.  But  I  wish  you  well,  and  may  your  fond 
est  hopes  be  realized.  Good-bye,  Red." 

"  Veil,  goot-py,  cheneral ;  you  peen  a  goot 
man,  und  if  der  vas  sum  more  hopes  in  dem 
moundains,  I  find  him  oudt  vonce  yet." 

"  I've  knowed  him  fifteen  y'ar,"  said  Char 
ley,  as  we  rode  away,  "an'  he  gets  fooler  an' 
fooler  all  th'  time." 

"  It  would  seem  so,"  said  the  general,  with 
a  tinge  of  sadness  in  his  voice,  "but  I  may  yet 
persuade  him  to  change  his  ways." 

We  did  not  stop  for  lunch  that  day,  but 
pushed  on  to  a  little  lake  which  we  reached  about 
five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  went  into  camp. 
It  was  an  ideal  hunting  ground  for  buffalo  and 
antelope.  Large  herds  of  cattle  and  wild  horses 
went  there  for  water.  Old  Pete  was  busy  with 
the  evening  meal,  when  Speck  came  rushing 
into  camp  so  excited  he  could  hardly  speak. 

"  What's  the  matter  now,  Speck?"  asked  Mrs. 
Clark.  "You  didn't  run  into  a  mountain  lion  up 
there,  did  you?" 

"  Vorse  as  dot.  Ven  I  climb  dot  santhill  mit 
der  glass  I  see  sum  Injuns  und  sum  vhite  men. 
Dey  been  coomin'  up  der  drail  vonce  now  al- 
retty." 

Charley  took  the  glasses,  and  when  the 
strangers  came  in  sight  commenced  to  swear  in 
his  native  tongue — the  Missouri  language. 


"  It's  Arkansaw  Bill  an'  two  big  Injuns,  sure's 
we're  here.  Now  them  fellers  'as  been  follerin' 
of  us,  an'  I'm  goin'  down  t'  meet  'em  an'  fin' 
out  ther'  bizness." 

"  Hold  on,  Charley/'  said  the  general,  "we 
were  here  first,  and  will  let  them  make  their 
wants  known.  This  is  a  free  country,  and  all 
have  rights  that  must  be  respected.  We  will  not 
bother  them  unless  they  give  us  trouble." 

When  Bill  saw  we  were  watching  him,  he 
made  a  few  signs  to  his  companions  and  they  all 
left  the  trail,  passing  by  us  and  disappearing  in 
the  sand  hills,  to  the  north  of  the  lake. 

"  I  vish  I  pull  dot  drigger  vonce,"  said  Speck, 
as  he  leaned  the  gun  up  against  the  wagon. 

"  You  would  have  missed  if  you  had,"  said  I, 
"for  they  were  half  a  mile  away." 

"  Veil,  ven  I  shoot  dey  coom  closer  mebbe." 

"They  '11  be  clost  enough  'fore  mornin'," 
said  Charley.  "This  little  lake,  which  ye  see, 
ain't  no  bigger'n  a  good-sized  corral,  much;  it's 
all  th'  water  this  side  o'  ol'  Red's  ranch  'at  I 
know  uv,  an'  they  got  t'  come  here  fer  water. 
Can't  ride  a  hoss  more'n  a  day  'thout  givin'  'im  a 
drink." 

Charley  and  I  went  out  around  the  lake  to 
stand  guard  while  the  other  members  of  our 
party  ate  supper.  Speck  came  out  and  relieved 
us,  while  the  general  and  Pete  staked  the  horses. 
The  moon  was  now  shining  brightly  and  all  was 
quiet  save  for  the  occasional  roar  of  a  mountain 
lion  and  the  familiar  howl  of  the  coyotes. 

"You  and  I,"  said  the  general  to  me,  "will 
take  the  first  watch,  and  Speck  and  Charley  the 

148 


second.  Now,  all  of  you  turn  in  and  we  will  see 
that  you  are  not  disturbed." 

I  took  the  north  side  of  the  lake  and  the  gen 
eral  the  south.  Cattle  were  all  about  us.  Little 
bands  of  wild  horses  came  near,  but  when  they 
discovered  us,  whistled  and  galloped  away.  It 
was  about  ten  o'clock  when  I  saw  a  herd  of  buffalo 
coming,  and  called  to  the  general. 

"  May  be  cattle,"  said  he,  as  he  dismounted. 

"  No,  they  are  buffalo ;  I  can  tell  by  their 
wabbly  walk.  Ready,  now,  and  we  will  get  two 
of  them."  And  we  did. 

"What  ye  shootin'  at?"  asked  Charley  as  he 
and  Speck  came  running  around  where  we  were. 
"Gone  loco,  er  did  ye  see  somepin'?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  general,  "mine  is  a  nice  fat 
three-year-old  buffalo  cow." 

"  Mine  is  a  yearling,  and  a  big  one,"  said  I. 

"  Now,  there  you  go,"  said  Mrs.  Clark,  as 
she  and  the  girls  came  out.  "You  bring  us 
women  out  here  to  hunt  and  then  go  and  kill  all 
the  game.  The  girls  and  I  will  stand  guard  now 
while  you  take  care  of  your  meat." 

"Keep  still,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "there  are 
horses  coming.  They  proved  to  be  wild  horses, 
and  we  all  felt  easier  again. 

I  brought  saddle  horses  for  the  ladies  and 
kept  watch  with  them.  After  an  hour's  wait  they 
got  a  shot  at  some  antelope,  killing  one,  and  I 
took  a  shot  at  the  same  time  at  a  big  gray  wolf 
that  had  sneaked  in  near  the  camp.  They  all 
went  back  to  the  wagon  to  rest  awhile,  and  Speck 
came  around  after  the  antelope.  I  told  him  to 
come  back  and  watch,  and  I  would  ride  out  north 

149 


a  short  distance  to  see  if  I  could  locate  the 
riders  who  had  caused  us  to  stay  up  all  night. 

"  You  will  not  go  alone,"  said  the  general,  as 
he  came  riding  up,  so  we  went  together.  We  rode 
northerly  about  two  miles  and  found  another 
lake,  or  water  hole,  which  at  this  time  of  year 
was  usually  dry.  It  was  yet  quite  dark,  but  we 
knew  Bill  and  the  Indians  were  camped  there. 

"  Pete,"  said  the  general  after  we  had  re 
turned  to  camp,  "you  may  get  us  some  breakfast, 
and  we  will  return  and  interview  those  fellows. 
I  thought  last  night  we  would  pay  no  attention 
to  them,  but  I  think  it  better  to  see  which  way 
they  go  when  they  break  camp." 

"  May  I  go,  too?"  asked  Blue  Eye. 

"No,  my  child,"  said  the  general,  "you  had 
better  stay  in  camp." 

We  ate  breakfast,  saddled  fresh  horses,  and 
when  ready  to  go  Blue  Eye  mounted  Roany  and 
started  with  us. 

"Hadn't  you  better  stay  here?" 

"  No,  general,  let  me  go  along.  I  want  to 
see  those  Indians;  maybe  I  know  them.  Then, 
too,  if  we  get  near  enough  to  hear,  and  they  talk 
Sioux,  I  can  tell  what  they  say." 

When  we  reached  a  little  blowout,  I  crept  up 
near  enough  to  see  they  were  cooking  breakfast. 
They  had  shot  a  calf  and  were  roasting  meat. 
They  were  talking,  but  I  could  not  understand 
what  was  said,  so  went  back  a  few  yards  to  where 
the  general  and  Blue  Eye  stood  holding  the 
horses,  and  asked  the  girl  to  go  with  me.  We 
crept  cautiously  along  the  edge  of  the  hill  till 
within  about  sixty  yards  of  them.  We  listened  a 

150 


few  moments,  when  Blue  Eye  grabbed  my  arm 
and  started  back. 

"  Come/'  she  whispered,  "they  are  planning 
to  kill  us.  They  are  talking  Sioux,  but  I  under 
stand.  They  are  going  to  round  up  all  the  cat 
tle  they  can  today,  stampede  them  through  our 
camp  tonight,  kill  you  men,  and  carry  us  women 
away.  But  they  will  not  do  it,"  and  she  stamped 
the  sand  with  one  of  her  feet. 

"  No,  they  will  not  carry  our  women  away," 
said  the  general.  "Blue  Eye,  you  can  ride  up  to 
the  blowout,  but  keep  well  out  of  sight.  Don't 
shoot  unless  it  is  in  self  defense." 

The  sun  was  just  rising  as  we  rode  down, 
coming  in  sight  of  them  from  the  west,  while 
Blue  Eye  rode  up  from  the  south.  We  were 
within  about  eighty  yards  of  them  when  they 
saw  us,  and  in  an  instant  each  drew  his  six- 
shooter.  We  halted  and  called  to  them  to  put 
up  their  guns,  and  we  rode  up  to  their  camp. 

"  Have  you  seen  any  buffalo  this  morning, 
boys?"  asked  the  general  in  such  a  friendly  way 
I  was  surprised  at  him. 

"  N-no,"  stammered  Bill,  as  he  made  a  mo 
tion  to  the  Indians.  "We  're  goin'  t'  th'  reser 
vation,  an'  ain't  lookin'  fer  buffalo." 

"  You  are  a  dirty  liar,  sir,  and  you  know  it. 
We  heard  you  talking  a  few  moments  ago,  and 
I  want  to  tell  you  now  that  the  first  order  of 
business  will  be  the  stampeding  of  us  instead  of 
the  cattle  you  were  going  to  round  up.  If  you 
are  not  a  coward  you  will  defend  yourself.  We 
have  been  watching  you  for  the  last  hour,  and 
after  the  threats  you  have  made,  would  have  been 
justified  in  killing  you  as  we  would  a  wolf,  but 


neither  of  us  ever  shot  a  man  in  the  back,  nor  one 
that  was  not  looking.  Now  you  can  do  one  of 
two  things;  fight,  or  send  those  Indians  on  to 
their  reservation,  and  turn  back  to  your  home,  if 
you  have  one." 

"  Oh,  I'll  go  back,  I'll  go  back.  I  ain't  got 
nothin'  ag'in  either  uv  ye,"  and  he  commenced  to 
jabber  and.  make  signs  to  his  two  companions. 
"No,  we  don't  want  t'  fight  ye  at  all." 

"  Hold  on  a  moment,  Bill,  and  we  will  have 
an  interpreter  here,"  and  I  called  to  Blue  Eye  to 
come  down. 

"  Tell  those  Indians  what  they  must  do."  But 
the  sight  of  the  girl  was  all  that  was  needed  to 
enrage  the  Indians,  and  one  of  them  drew  his 
knife  and  started  toward  her,  demanding  that  she 
come  with  him  or  he  would  cut  her  heart  out. 

"Stop,"  said  she,  "or  I  will  kill  you  in 
stantly,"  and  she  pointed  her  sixshooter  straight 
at  his  breast.  He  lowered  his  hand,  stepped 
back  a  few  feet  and  drove  the  long  blade  of  his 
knife  into  his  heart  and  dropped  dead. 

"  And  you ;  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  said 
she,  pointing  her  sixshooter  at  the  other  Indian. 

"  Me  go ;  me  go  quick.  Me  no  like  fightem 
paleface." 

"  Then  go  at  once,"  and  he  made  for  his  pony, 
which  was  staked  a  few  yards  away,  and  soon 
disappeared  in  the  sand  hills.  Bill  stood  trem 
bling  like  a  leaf,  anxiously  awaiting  the  word 
that  he  might  go. 

"  Get  your  horses,  Bill,"  said  the  general,  and 
lash  that  dead  Indian  on  one  of  them  and  go 
with  us.  We  have  a  spade  at  camp,  and  it  will 

152 


be  easier  to  take  the  body  down  there  and  bury 
it  than  to  come  back  up  here  and  do  it." 

After  we  had  told  those  at  camp  of  our  ex 
perience,  Charley  walked  over  to  Bill  and  spat  in 
his  face. 

"  There,  now,  ef  ye  take  thet,  yer  no  more  a 
man  'an  a  skunk  is.  I've  knowed  ye  fer  fifteen 
y'ars,  an'  ef  ye  was  dyin'  now.  fer  a  drink,  an*  no 
water  nigh,  I  wouldn't  give  ye  a  sup  o'  tomaties 
t'  save  yer  life.  Yer  a  crack  shot,  a  bully,  an* 
a  bad  man,  so  ef  ye  want  t'  celebrate  a  little,  jis' 
say  th'  word,  an'  we'll  go  out  b'hin'  thet  san' 
hill  an'  hev  it  out.  I'm  disgusted  with  ye.  I 
thought  ye'd  fight  when  cornered,  but  ye  won't. 
Git  out  o'  me  sight,  an'  ef  I  ever  see  ye  ag'in  I'll 
git  some  ten  y'ar  ol'  boy  t'  torture  ye  t'  death. 
Wouldn't  fight  a  horned  toad,"  continued  Char 
ley,  as  Bill  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  disappeared 
down  the  trail. 

"  Ought  to  've  killed  'im,  but  a  man  can't  kill 
a  snake  when  it's  a-beggin'." 


153 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  wind  was  now  blowing  quite  hard  from 
the  northwest  and  was  gradually  growing  colder. 
Our  horses  began  to  get  uneasy,  and  we  knew 
that  within  a  few  hours  the  storm  would  reach 
us  and  would  probably  last  three  days,  but  as 
we  were  within  a  day's  ride  of  old  Red's  cabin, 
we  concluded  to  stay  and  hunt  until  we  got  all  the 
meat  we  wanted,  and  have  at  least  one  day's  chase 
after  wild  horses.  That  morning  we  killed  an 
old  buffalo  bull,  took  his  robe  and  horns,  then 
dragged  the  carcass  up  near  camp  for  wolf  bait. 
The  sharp  wind  caused  these  animals  to  gather 
close  about  us,  and,  if  possible,  howl  louder  than 
before.  We  knew  every  wolf  killed  meant  that 
many  cattle  saved,  so  the  remainder  of  the  day 
and  half  the  night  was  spent  shooting  wolves. 
They  came  up  to  the  carcass  from  every  direc 
tion,  and  we  all  had  a  splendid  opportunity  to 
display  our  markmanship,  which  was  up  to  the 
western  standard. 

The  next  day  we  rode  far  into  the  hills,  but 
no  buffalo  could  be  found.  After  a  long,  hard 
chase  we  brought  in  a  beautiful  mare  which  we 
cut  out  of  a  band  and  roped.  She  was  as  black 
as  any  crow,  and  when  broken  was  one  of  the 
most  gentle  and  kindly  animals  I  ever  saw.  The 
girls  named  her  Beaut  and  made  her  the  pet  of 
the  ranch.  After  supper  that  evening  the  general 
concluded  there  had  been  no  real  sport  in  kill 
ing  the  two  buffalo  the  night  before,  so  gave  in- 


structions  to  Pete  to  have  breakfast  early  and 
prepare  lunches  and  we  would  try  again.  The 
next  morning  he  sent  Speck  and  I  east.  He 
was  to  take  the  ladies  and  go  west,  Charley 
was  to  go  north,  and  about  noon  all  were  to  meet 
on  a  high  sand  hill  some  fifteen  miles  northerly 
from  camp.  If  we  did  not  return  before  dark 
the  cook  was  to  keep  the  lanterns  burning  and 
shoot  off  a  gun  occasionally  to  assist  us  in  find 
ing  our  way  in.  Speck  and  I  reached  the  sand 
hill  in  due  time,  with  a  nice  fat  yearling  buffalo 
strapped  on  our  pack  horse,  and  Charley  came 
up  an  hour  later  with  a  big  mountain  lion  skin 
tied  on  behind  his  saddle.  We  ate  our  lunch, 
but  the  general  and  his  party  did  not  come.  We 
waited  until  about  three  o'clock  and  then  started 
for  camp,  which  we  reached  at  dusk. 

"Where's  the  general  and  party?"  I  asked 
as  we  rode  up. 

"  Ain't  seen  'em  sence  mornin',"  said  Pete,  as 
he  crawled  out  from  under  the  wagon  and  com 
menced  to  stir  up  the  fire. 

"  Then  get  us  a  bite  to  eat  as  quickly  as  you 
can,  and  we  will  go  and  hunt  them.  It  is  going 
to  storm,  and  we  must  bring  them  in  or  they  will 
suffer  with  cold." 

"  Yes,  hurry  up,  Pete,"  said  Charley.  "We're 
nearly  starved.  B'  th'  time  we  saddle  fresh 
hosses  ye  mus'  have  some  coffee  an'  steak." 

The  wind  blew  colder  and  colder  and  snow 
soon  commenced  falling.  We  faced  the  storm 
and  rode  about  half  a  mile  apart,  firing  our  six- 
shooters  as  signals  to  each  other.  We  knew  the 
wind  would  not  change,  and  that  by  facing  about 
could  find  our  way  back.  We  had  been  gone  an 

155 


hour,  perhaps,  when  the  general  and  girls  rode 
into  camp  from  the  south. 

"  Where  are  the  boys  ?"  they  asked  as  soon 
as  they  got  within  hearing. 

"  I  couldn't  tell  ye,"  said  Pete,  "but  I  'spect 
they're  'bout  ten  mile  out  yander  in  th'  storm. 
They  come  in,  an'  wus  so  skeered  'bout  youins 
thet  they  jis*  swallered  a  bite  er  two  'piece, 
changed  hosses  an'  lit  out  a  huntin'  fer  ye.  It's 
no  use  t'  fire  a  gun  'cause  they  couldn't  hear  it 
t'  th'  first  san'  hill  there.  But  they'll  git  back, 
yer  needn't  have  no  fear  'bout  them  fellers.  Come 
in  th'  tent,  an'  I'll  warm  ye  up  'ith  hot  grub 
in  a  minute." 

"  Fix  up  a  bite  for  the  women,"  said  the  gen 
eral.  "I'm  not  hungry.  I  will  go  out  and  see  if 
I  can  find  the  boys." 

"  Bring  me  a  horse,  too,  general,  for  I'm  going 
along,"  said  Blue  Eye. 

"  No,  no,  child,  you  can't  go,  it's  too  cold. 
I'll  ride  out  a  few  miles  and  then  come  back.  If 
they  come  in,  keep  them  here." 

"  But  let  me  go  with  you,"  she  pleaded.  "My 
only  friend  out  in  this  storm  hunting  for  me. 
I — I — must  go." 

"Blue  Eye!" 

"  Please  forgive  me,  Mrs.  Clark.  I  did  not 
know  what  I  was  saying.  You  are  all  my  friends, 
and  such  dear  ones,  too." 

"  We  knew  you  did  not  mean  what  you  said, 
so  stay  with  us.  The  general  will  do  all  that  can 
be  done." 

"  Yes,  I  know  he  will,  but  please  let  me  go," 
and  she  knelt  down  and  kissed  Mrs.  Clark,  again 
asking  forgiveness. 

156 


"  Let  her  go,  mamma,  she  will  suffer  worse  if 
she  stays  here.  Let  us  both  go;  we  are  not 
afraid  of  a  little  storm." 

"  A  little  storm !  This  is  simply  furious,  and 
getting  worse,"  said  the  general,  as  he  came  in. 

"  Both  want  to  go  ?  Now  be  sensible  girls, 
and  don't  worry  about  those  boys ;  they  have  been 
out  in  many  a  storm  and  will  show  up  all  right." 

"  Then  why  do  you  want  to  go  out  ?"  said 
Blue  Eye. 

"  Because  they  will  never  quit  hunting  for  us 
until  they  know  we  are  safe.  I  will  not  be  gone 
long.  Keep  the  lantern  burning  and  shoot  off  a 
gun  occasionally." 

He  started  out  facing  the  storm,  which  was 
now  almost  blinding.  We  had  ridden  we  knew 
not  where.  Two  hours  had  passed  since  I  had 
seen  the  other  two  boys.  Muggins  wanted  to 
turn  back,  but  I  kept  urging  him  on.  Charley 
and  Speck  had  kept  near  each  other,  and  had 
concluded  to  turn  back.  They  reached  camp 
half  frozen,  and  while  overjoyed  to  find  the  ladies 
safe  in  the  big  tent,  were  sorry  the  general  and  1 
were  still  out. 

"We'll  change  bosses  ag'in  an'  go  back," 
said  Charley,  "fer  they'll  freeze  ef  they  don't  git 
in.  Awful  storm,  an'  sich  a  sudden  change,  too. 
This  mornin'  didn't  hardly  need  a  coat,  an'  now  a 
dutch  oven  'th  th'  lid  tied  down  'Id  hardly  keep  a 
feller  warm.  Worst  blizzard  I  ever  see  this  time 
o'  y'ar.  How  long's  th'  gen'ral  bin  gone?" 

"Well,  it  seems  like  an  age,  but  probably 
about  three  hours.  Yes,  just  about  that  long, 
for  it  is  now  nearly  one  o'clock.  But  we  were  to 
keep  you  here  if  you  came,  and  .not  let  you — " 

157 


"  Yer  want  us  t'  stay,  an'  yer  want  us  t'  go. 
Now,  ain't  thet  it?" 

"  I  think  they  will  surely  be  in  pretty  soon." 

"  But  they  might  git  here  sooner  'f  we  fin' 
'em.  We'll  jis'  strike  right  out." 

"  Bless  those  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Clark,  as  they 
rode  away.  "I  did  not  want  them  to  go,  but  I 
could  not  bear  to  have  them  here,  and  the  general 
and  the  Kid  out  wandering  around  in  this  awful 
storm." 

"  But  if  we  only  could  go  and  help,"  said 
Blue  Eye. 

"  I  wish  we  might,"  said  Me-Me,  as  both  sat 
upon  the  ground  with  robes  drawn  closely  about 
them. 

I  had  wandered  about  until  I  hardly  knew 
which  way  to  go  next,  but  felt  I  could  not  face 
the  storm  much  longer.  It  was  pitch  dark  and 
the  sleet  and  snow  had  nearly  blinded  me. 

"  Muggins,"  I  remember  saying  to  my  horse, 
"we  will  have  to  turn  back.  My  hands  are  too 
numb  to  hold  the  bridle  reins,  so  if  you  can  find 
the  way,  strike  out  for  camp." 

I  began  to  feel  sleepy,  so  climbed  down  and 
walked  awhile.  I  then  took  a  drink  of  brandy, 
remounted  and  started  on.  I  tried  to  shoot  off 
my  revolver,  but  my  hands  were  too  cold,  so  I  put 
the  weapon  back  into  my  belt.  Muggins  neighed 
and  swung  into  a  long  gallop,  but  when  he  found 
he  was  chasing  a  band  of  wild  horses  he  slowed 
down  into  a  walk  again,  apparently  as  much  dis 
appointed  as  I  was. 

"  I  thought  we  had  found  them,  Muggins,  or 
they  had  found  us." 

158 


"Just  then  the  report  of  a  sixshooter  startled 
me.  Muggins  neighed  again,  turned  sharply  to 
the  left  and  galloped  up  to  a  horse  and  rider, 
their  heads  bent  low,  pushing  on  facing  the 
storm. 

"  Hello,  there!  is  that  you,  general?"  I  called 
out,  as  soon  as  I  got  within  hearing. 

"  For  God's  sake,  yes,  Kid,  is  that  you  ?" 

"  Where  are  the  ladies  ?"  I  asked. 

"  They  are  safe  at  camp,  so  let  us  face  about." 

"  How  are  your  face  and  hands  ?"  I  asked,  as 
we  started  back. 

"  Frozen,  I  guess,  for  there  is  no  feeling  in 
them.  I  hope  you  are  not  suffering  worse  than 
I.  Now  another  thing — " 

"Well?" 

"  I  hope  Speck  and  Charley  are  as  safe  as  I 
know  the  women  are,  and  as  we  will  be  some 
time.  Let's  take  a  drink." 

Out  of  the  fullness  of  my  heart  I  replied,  and 
took  a  pull  at  his  bottle  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  a  Kentucky  colonel,  but  the  general 
went  me  one  better. 

"  You  see,  I  joined  the  Shriners  not  long  ago, 
and  they  taught  me  a  great  lesson." 

"Yes?" 

"  Yes.  They  taught  me  to  hang  on  to  the 
rope,  and  I  haven't  let  go  of  anything  since." 

I  suppose  the  general  had  referred  to  this  to 
illustrate  the  strong  grip  he  had  on  the  bottle, 
but  I  was  too  cold  to  see  the  point,  and  we  jogged 
on. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  we  are  going  ?"  I 
asked,  "or  which  direction  camp  is  from  here  ?" 

159 


"  No.  We  are  drifting  with  the  storm,  and 
that  is  about  all  I  do  know.  This  little  draw 
we  are  following  will  lead  us  to  the  creek,  and  I 
think  we  will  strike  below  camp,  but  can't  tell 
how  far." 

"  What  do  you  see,  Muggins  ?"  I  asked  the 
horse  as  he  left  the  little  trail  we  were  following 
and  went  up  to  some  object  lying  in  the  snow. 
I  climbed  down  and  discovered  that  it  was  a 
man. 

"  Quick,  general,  it's  a  man,  and  he  is  frozen 
stiff." 

We  raised  him  up,  and  in  a  voice  that  was 
strange  and  foreign  to  us,  said : 

"  Not  now,  I'm  a'  right.  Lemme  sleep  ag'in," 
and  he  fell  back  into  my  arms. 

We  gave  him  a  drink  of  brandy  and  got  him 
onto  his  feet,  but  he  could  not  walk.  Who  he 
was  we  did  not  know,  nor  did  we  stop  to  inquire. 
We  could  not  leave  him  there,  so  we  lifted  him 
across  my  horse,  the  general  holding  onto  his 
feet  from  one  side  and  I  his  head  and  hands  from 
the  other,  and  started  on.  The  old  wound  in 
my  shoulder  was  causing  me  intense  pain,  and  I 
fear  I  worried  the  general  some  with  my  remarks. 

"  Pretty  hard  task,  general,"  said  I.  after  we 
had  worn  ourselves  out  slapping  and  hauling  at 
our  newfound  companion,  trying  to  rouse  him  up. 

"  Yes,  but  friend  or  foe  he  has  got  to  go  with 
us;  we  will  take  him  to  camp  or  die  in  the  at 
tempt.  Push  him  off  on  my  side,  and  we  will 
give  him  what  brandy  we  have  left.  He  is  lim 
bering  up  a  little,  and  we  may  save  him  yet. 
Hear  that!  Hold  up  the  fellow's  head  while 
I  fire  my  sixshooter.  There!  some  one  heard 

1 60 


that,  for  they  answered.  We  will  wait  a  mo 
ment  and  shoot  again.  Hurrah!  a  rider  is  com 
ing.  Now  let's  give  the  old  fellow  some  more 
of  the  brandy." 

"  Hurry,  Speck,  it's  them,"  said  Charley,  as 
he  jumped  down  and  commenced  to  shake  our 
frozen  hands. 

"  What's  this  ye've  got." 

"An  old  man  we  found  back  here  almost 
frozen  to  death.  If  you  know  where  camp  is 
lead  the  way  and  help  get  him  in  out  of  the 
storm." 

"  Der  camp's  right  here  alretty,"  said  Speck. 
"Don'dt  yer  see  der  light ;  ye've  gone  clear  by  it 
yet." 

"  You  all  go  on  'ith  th'  hosses,"  said  Charley, 
"an'  I'll  bring  th'  ol'  feller  in  on  me  back.  Purty 
heavy  load,  but  I'll  make  it,"  and  in  a  few  mo 
ments  we  were  at  the  tent  door. 

There  were  mingled  tears  of  joy  and  glad 
ness,  but  all  was  hushed  when  Charley  walked 
in  and  laid  the  old  man  down  on  a  rug  by  the 
sheet  iron  stove.  We  turned  his  face  to  the 
light  and  recognized  him  instantly. 

"  It's  old  Uncle  Zach  Foiley,"  said  the  gen 
eral,  as  he  turned  and  clasped  my  hand.  "Kid, 
I  thank  God  we  were  lost,  for  had  it  been  other 
wise  this  poor  old  fellow  would  have  frozen  to 
death.  Get  to  work  here,  all  of  you;  we  must 
hold  snow  to  his  face  and  hands  and  feet,  and 
draw  the  frost  out." 

"Don't  you  need  some  care  yourselves?" 
asked  Mrs.  Clark. 

"  Not  now ;  Uncle  Zach  first ;  we  will  thaw 
ourselves  out  later." 

161 


"  He's  a-comin'  to  all  right,"  said  Charley, 
as  he  poured  a  big  drink  of  brandy  down  him. 

"  Good !  I  hope  he  isn't  frozen  as  badly  as 
we  thought  he  was.  But  where  is  Speck;  can't 
I  keep  sight  of  all  the  members  of  my  family 
any  more?" 

"  Ye  kin  snub  t'  me  'f  I  know,"  said  Charley, 
as  he  applied  another  handful  of  snow  to  Uncle 
Zach's  face. 

"  Never  mind  Speck,"  said  Blue  Eye ;  "he 
would  have  a  fit  if  any  of  the  horses  would  get 
their  blankets  off,"  and  she  pulled  the  flap  of  the 
tent  aside  and  gazed  longingly  out  into  the  dark 
ness  to  make  sure  Speck  had  not  wandered  too 
far  from  camp. 


162 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  storm  grew  worse  until  noon  the  next 
day,  and  of  course  we  all  remained  in  camp.  Our 
faces  and  eajs  were  badly  frosted,  as  well  as 
our  feet  and  hands.  But  no  one  complained ;  all 
were  cheerful  and  happy.  The  horses  were  kept 
blanketed  and  given  every  care  possible,  so  they 
did  not  suffer  much,  except  for  want  of  feed.  The 
wind  went  down  with  the  sun,  but  the  air  was 
quite  cold. 

"  We  will  have  a  nice  day  tomorrow,"  said 
the  general,  "and  the  horses  can  get  plenty  of 
grass.  Not  such  a  bad  storm  after  all.  Been 
out  in  worse  blizzards  than  that,  haven't  you, 
Uncle  Zach?" 

"  Yes,  but  none  'at  seemed  to  chill  me  plum 
t'  th'  morry,  like  this  'n'  did.  Guess  I'm  gittin' 
too  ol'  t'  stan'  'em  like  I  used  to." 

"  Yes,  you  are  too  old.  What  were  you  do 
ing  out  here  in  the  hills,  anyway?" 

"  Wall,  I'll  tell  ye.  Ye  know  we  hadn't  seen 
each  other  sence  we  scouted  t'gether,  five,  mebbe 
six  y'ars  ago.  Ye  saved  me  f'om  th'  Injuns  a 
few  times,  an'  I  saved  yer  scalp  oncet  or  twicet,  I 
reckon.  Wall,  I  thought  I  hed  fought  Injuns 
long  'nough  after  thet  hard  campaign  on  th'  Big 
Sandy  an'  'cross  t'  th'  Julesburg  water  holes. 
Ye  r'member  as  how  ye  wus  only  a  cap'n  then  an' 
me  a  lieutenant,  an'  how  we  'lected  ye  general  uv 
all  th'  enlisted  men  in  Colorady?  Ye  went  t' 
Chicawgo,  an'  I  went  back  t'  m'  ranch  on  South 

163 


Beaver.  I  settled  down  thar  an*  went  t'  work  a 
cuttin'  posts  an'  a-fencin' — a  little  more  tobackie 
an'  a  match — I  got  t'  smoke  er  I  cain't  talk  good. 
Wall,  purty  soon,  thet  is,  a  little  ev'ry  y'ar,  I  got 
m'  place  fenced,  an'  th'  cattle  kep'  a-growin',  an' 
I  jis'  got  fixed  up  comf't'ble  like.  Th'  latch 
string  t'  or  Uncle  Zach's  house  allus  hung  out. 
Th'  boys  'd  stop  an'  eat  m'  grub  th'  same  when  I 
wus  home  's  when  I  wusn't.  Wall,  's  I  said,  I 
got  fixed  like,  an'  hed  'bout  a  hunderd  head  o' 
nice  cattle,  all  gentle,  an'  two  strings  o'  eight 
hosses  each,  all  good  uns,  when  th'  Injuns 
swooped  down  on  me  las'  summer,  an'  they  cut 
m'  fence,  killed  an'  scattered  m'  cattle,  stole  all 
m'  hosses  but  th'  one  I  wus  a-ridin',  burnt  m' 
house  an'  stable,  an'  all  m'  hay  an'  corrals.  They 
didn't  leave  me  nuthin'.  I  wus  flat  broke 
an'  thought  how  these  things  hafter  be;  an'  I 
sez,  'Uncle  Zach,  ye  must  git  out  an'  fin'  a  place 
t'  stay  this  winter.  Yer  busted.  Yer  ain't  got 
a  cent.  Ef  houses  wus  sellin'  fer  thirty  cents,  ye 
couldn't  buy  a  pane  o'  glass,  an'  'f  beef  steers  wus 
only  wuth  a  nickel,  ye  couldn't  kiss  a  jack  rab 
bit's  hin'  foot.  Ye'll  hev  t'  move  on.'  Wall, 
I  rode  over  t'  th'  Bar  T.  ranch  an'  stayed  thar 
'while  an'  fin'ly  I  hear'd  ye'd  come  back  west,  an' 
wus  over  on  Rock  crick,  an'  I  sez,  I'll  jis'  ride 
over  an'  see  th'  gen'ral  an'  spen'  a  few  days  a- 
swappin'  ol'  stories,  an'  incident'ly  git  a  few 
squar'  meals  an'  some  tobackie,  an'  feed  fer  me 
hoss.  Wall,  jis'  as  I  got  t'  th'  stables  an'  wus 
goin'  ter  call  ye  t'  let  ye  know  'at  Uncle  Zach 
'd  come,  an'  fer  ye  t'  kill  th'  fatted  calf,  I 
hear'd  some  fellers  out  back  o'  th'  corral  talkin' 
Sioux.  Now,  yer  Uncle  Zach  ain't  much  on 

164 


good  olj  English  as  she  is  spoke,  but  when  it 
comes  t'  Sioux,  I'm  a  perfessor,  with  a  LL.  D.  at 
tached  'ith  a  di'mond  hitch.  Wall,  I  jis'  kind  o' 
sauntered  close  by,  an'  I  reeco'nized  Arkansaw 
Bill.  He  looked  su'prised  like,  but  kep'  right 
on  talkin'  an'  I  walked  away  a  little  an'  'peared 
t'  be  tendin'  t'  m'  own  bizness,  but  I  hear'd 
it  all.  They  wus  goin'  t'  foller  ye  an'  kill  all  but 
th'  gals,  an'  wus  goin'  t'  carry  'em  off.  They 
didn't  say  no  names,  but  after  they'd  gone,  I  axt 
th'  boys  who  wus  up  th'  crick  a-huntin',  an' 
they  tolj  me.  Sez  I,  'Uncle  Zach,  you  air  a  dam 
coward  ef  ye  don't  foller  up  an'  see  'at  a  lot  o' 
yer  frien's  ain't  kilt.'  So  I  jis'  saddled  a  fresh 
hoss,  an'  lit  out.  Wall,  I  missed  th'  trail,  some 
how,  fer  it  wus  night,  jis'  dusk,  when  I  started. 
I  hadn't  had  nuthin'  t'  eat  sence  breakfas',  an' 
Bill  an'  th'  two  Injuns  wus  'bout  three  hours 
ahead  o'  me.  I  wus  a-ridin'  hard  'bout  sunup,  jis' 
nearly  mornin',  when  m'  hoss  goes  inter  a  badger 
hole,  an'  over  we  went.  Thet's  th'  las'  thing  I 
reckerlect,  but  I  didn't  fergit  thet;  I  knowed  it 
all  th'  time.  Sence  thet,  I've  slep'  on  goose  hair 
an'  fur  robes,  jis'  outside  o'  dreamlan',  waitin'  t' 
be  cut  out,  branded  an'  put  in  th'  big  corral. 
You  fellers  foun'  me,  brought  me  in  here  an' 
woke  me  up  an'  spoilt  th'  whole  bizness,  but 
then  I'm  not  kickin'.  Ef  I'd  a-landed  'ith  th'  an 
gels,  they  couldn't  Ve  treated  me  no  better'n  you 
hev,  an'  ef  I'd  been  put  in  th'  big  corral  down 
below,  ther'  wouldn't  've  been  no  snow  t'  draw 
th'  fros'  out  o'  m'  feet  an'  han's  with.  So,  's 
I  sed,  I'm  not  kickin'  any.  Did  ye  see  Bill  an' 
th'  Injuns?" 

165 


We  told  him  our  experience  with  them,  and 
he  continued: 

"  Wall,  then  I'm  sorry  fer  one  thing,  an'  I 
hope  t'  live  long  'nough  t'  set  eyes  on  thet  vill'm 
ag'in.  I'm  seventy-nine  pas'  las'  September,  an' 
never  kilt  a  man  in  col'  blood,  not  even  a  In 
jun,  but  I'm  li'ble  t'  go  wrong  'f  I  see  Bill  ag'in. 
He  oughter  bin  kilt  long  'go,  fer  then  we'd  hev 
less  trouble  with  Injuns.  He  he'ps  t'  start  'em 
on  th'  warpath,  then  hides  out  till  th'  fightin'  's 
over.  Did  anybody  swipe  m'  ol'  Winchester 
while  I  wus  dreamin'?  No,  thet's  it,  an'  'bout 
th'  best  breas'  pertector  a  man  kin  hev.  It 
p'longs  life,  insures  soun'  sleep  an'  pleas'nt 
dreams,  an'  I've  knowed  one  appl'cation  to  cure 
bad  cases  o'  rheumatics,  hoss  stealin'  an'  ind'ges- 
tion.  But  I  guess  I'm  a-tirin'  uv  ye.  Mighty 
likely  gals  here  with  ye,  General;  all  your'n?" 

"  Well,  yes,  Uncle  Zach,  all  my  family.  Here 
now,  the  girls  have  made  you  a  hot  Scotch.  We 
have  enjoyed  your  talk  and  are  sorry  we  were 
the  cause  of  your  present  sufferings.  We  are 
very  grateful  for  the  effort  you  made  to  warn  us 
of  the  danger,  and  if  kindness  will  repay  you, 
I  promise  the  debt  we  owe  you  shall  be  paid 
in  full." 

When  we  awoke  the  next  morning  we  knew 
the  storm  was  over.  We  remained  in  camp,  how 
ever,  nursing  our  chilblains,  giving  the  horses 
a  chance  to  feed,  for  they  were  hungry,  and 
made  preparations  to  start  home.  We  had 
planned  to  stay  another  day,  but  Uncle  Zach's 
feet  were  causing  him  so  much  trouble  we  con 
cluded  we  had  better  take  him  home  and  send 
for  a  doctor. 

166 


When  we  reached  the  ranch  the  boys  were 
arranging  to  start  up  the  creek  after  us,  for  they 
feared  we  were  lost. 

"  Mighty  glad  ye  all  got  in,"  said  old  Bud, 
as  he  rode  out  to  meet  us.  "Bin  mighty  oneasy 
'bout  ye  all  'long.  Wouldn't  o'  worried  'f  th' 
wimen  hed  bin  here,  but  I  jis'  'llowed  they'd 
suffer  'ith  th'  cold,  an'  mebbe  git  snow  blin'. 
Air  ye  shore  yer  all  right,  all  uv  ye  ?" 

"  Yes,  Bud,  we  are  all  safe  and  sound,"  said 
Mrs.  Clark.  "That  is,  all  but  Uncle  Zach.  His 
feet  are  so  badly  frozen  we  are  uneasy  about 
him,  and  must  have  a  doctor  as  soon  as  we  can 
get  one." 

"Pore  feller!  If  I'd  a  bin  here  when  he 
started,  I'd  a  gone  with  'im,  but  I  wus  away, 
down  toward  th'  river  a  bringin'  up  th'  cattle.  I 
knowed  it  wus  'goin'  t'  storm,  though,  by  th' 
way  m'  corns  hurt.  I  can  allus  tell.  I  got  a 
corn  on  th'  little  toe  o'  m'  right  foot,  an'  one  next 
to  th'  little  toe  on  t'other,  an'  I  have  t'  keep  parin' 
uv  'em  down  twicet  a  week  anyway,  an'  I  bin 
a-fig'rin'  a  little  lately  on  them  corns — a  hunderd 
an'  four  cuttin's  a  year,  an'  as  nigh  as  I  kin 
r 'member,  I  took  off  th'  first  crap  'bout  forty- 
three  y'ars  ago.  Now,  'llowin'  I  took  off  quarter 
uv  a  inch  a  month,  er  a  little  less,  mebbe,  I'd  a 
hed  three  magn'f'cent  flag  poles  now  'bout  a 
hunderd  foot  high  'f  I  hadn't  cut  'em  away  parin' 
at  a  time." 

"Yes?" 

"  Yas.  An'  I  'llowed  ef  they'd  a-growed  in 
size,  thet  is,  big  'roun',  as  fas'  's  they  growed  up, 
it'd  a  took  all  o'  th'  gen'ral's  hosses  to  haul  'em 
up  an'  sot  'em  in  th'  groun'.  An'  I  bin  thinkin', 

167 


too,  w'at  a  waste  o'  en'rgy  an'  strength  an'  wear- 
in'  uv  m'  knives  it  wus  t'  keep  'em  cut  off." 

"  And  waste  of  corns,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Clark,  as 
she  dismounted  and  told  Bud  to  take  her  horse 
to  the  stable. 

"  Ever  have  corns,  Mrs.  Clark?"  But  she  had 
gone  into  the  house,  and  did  not  reply. 


168 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  horses  were  soon  in  the  stable,  fed,  and 
the  meat  we  had  brought  home  with  us  put 
away.  Uncle  Zach  had  been  carried  into  the 
house  and  made  as  comfortable  as  possible.  His 
feet  were  frozen  so  badly  he  could  not  walk, 
but  he  was  as  cheerful  as  any  one  about  the 
house.  When  asked  if  he  suffered  much  he 
answered : 

"  Wall,  yas,  but  then  't  wouldn't  do  no  good 
t'  make  a  fuss  'bout  it.  Ye  see,  it's  like  this: 
'f  I  kin  keep  m'  min'  on  som'thin'  else,  I  fergit  th' 
pain,  an'  I'd  ruther  hear  a  good  story  'an  t'  hear 
m'self  gruntin'  an'  complainin'." 

Charley  hurriedly  ate  his  supper  and  started 
to  Binkleman  for  a  doctor. 

"  I'll  fetch  'im  by  day  after  tomorrie,  Uncle 
Zach,  so  be  's  patient  's  poss'ble.  It's  purty  dark 
an'  gittin'  colder  ag'in,  but  I'll  make  it  all  right, 
an'  ye  don't  need  t'  worry  'bout  me,"  and  he 
waved  his  hand  back  at  us  as  he  disappeared  in 
the  darkness. 

"  Thet  cigar  smokes  s'  easy  like,  I  think  I'll 
take  'nother',  gen'ral,"  said  Uncle  Zach,  as  he 
rocked  himself  up  a  little  closer  to  the  fire. 

"  Ah,  thankee !  It's  th'  same  Chicawgo  bran' 
ye  used  t'  hev  when  we  scouted  t'gether.  Bet- 
ter'n  I'm  used  to,  an'  ef  this  don't  put  me  t' 
sleep — wall,  'nother  one  an'  a  nip  f'om  th'  brandy 
bottle  will.  Why  don't  ye  go  t'  bed?  I  kin  keep 
th'  fire  goin'.  Ye  don't  hev  t'  set  up  'ith  me." 

169 


"  Well,  it's  like  this,  Uncle  Zach,  the  Kid  and 
I  are  not  sleepy,  so  we  will  stay  up  and  keep  you 
company.  Hadn't  you  better  lie  down  awhile?" 

"  Not  yit.  I  wus  too  busy  a-thinkin'.  Want 
t'  hear  'bout  some  o'  me  exper'ences  ag'in?" 

"  Certainly ;  take  a  fresh  cigar  and  start  in." 

"Ah!     Thet's    great.      Sort    o'    soothes    me 
like,  an'  eases  me  pain  some.    Ye  know,  gen'ral, 
we've  bin  t'gether  a  good  deal,  an'  I  bin  'ith  th' 
Kid  here  a  few  times,  I  reckon.    Ye  trusted  Uncle 
Zach,  allus  foun'  'im  on  th'  squar',  but  neither 
uv  ye  knowed  who  he  wus  er  where  he  come 
from.     Now,  I'm  goin'  ter  tell  ye,  fer  wrapped 
up  'n  me  busom  is  a  secret,  an'  ef  th'  feed  gits 
short,  an'  we  hev  a  hard  winter,  I'm  likely  not 
t'  pull  through.    I  wus  born  in  th'  ol'  south  Ian', 
an'   a  right  likely  yearlin'   I  wus,  too,  an'  me 
min'  nacherlly  wanders  back  t'  me  ol'  Varginny 
home.    I  went  t'  school  some,  then  learnt  th'  tin 
ner's  trade.     I   didn't  like  thet,   so  I   read  th' 
Bible  through  four  times  an'  preached  a  little. 
Next  I  studied  law,  then  worked  in  m'  Uncle's 
bank   erwhile;   then    I   went   back   t'   th'    farm. 
When  ol'  Josh  Hooper  moved  to  Arkansaw,  I 
felt  lonesome  like,  an'   foller'd  up  an'   went  t' 
work  fer  'im  on  a  mule  ranch.     Susie  was  th' 
oldest  gal,  a  little  younger'n  I  wus,  five  y'ars, 
mebbe;  an'  I  might's  well  tell  ye'  we  jis'  nach 
erlly  fell  in  love.     Now,  ef  ye  know  me,  an'  I 
think  ye  do,  ye  know  yer  Uncle  Zach  never  done 
nothin'  by  halves.    I  jis'  started  right  in  t'  marry 
thet  gal.     She  said  wait  erwhile,  an'  I  waited. 
I  fin'lly  got  th'  day  fixed,  but  she  said,  'Zach, 
wait  erwhile.     Ye  know  I'm  young  yit,  an'  we 
better  wait  a  y'ar.' 

170 


"Wall,  I  jis'  waited.  I  jined  th'  rush  t' 
Colorady,  Tike's  Peak  er  bus','  an'  when  Susie 
wrote  me  erbout  two  y'ars  later  thet  she  wus 
ready,  I  jis'  writ  back  t'  tease  'er  like,  'Wait 
erwhile.'  But  I  borried  some  money  an'  went 
back  an'  we  got  marri'd  an'  started  west  at 
oncet.  I  worked  at  th'  mines  on  Cherry  crick, 
right  clost  t'  Denver,  an'  made  a  little  money. 
Then  I  lost  me  claim  after  spendin'  all  our  money 
fer  court  fees  an'  lawyers,  then  pulled  stakes 
an'  went  t'  Idaho.  We  stopped  near  Silver  City 
an'  I  went  t'  work,  but  th'  long  trip  overlan' 
'ad  broke  me  down.  I  kep'  workin',  though,  an' 
in  erbout  a  y'ar  we  hed  a  good  placer  claim,  an' 
two  babies,  twins;  yes,  a  boy  an'  a  gal.  Wall, 
when  they  wus  'bout  six  months  ol',  I  left  'em 
t'  go  t'  Winnemuckey  fer  supplies,  an'  when 
I  got  back  th'  Snake  an'  Piute  Injuns  'd  bin 
on  th'  warpath,  an'  f'om  thet  day  t'  this  I've 
never  seed  'em,  er  knowed  what  come  uv  em.  I've 
gone  back  mos'  every  y'ar  sence  then  to  moisten 
th'  ashes  where  our  house  wus  burnt,  but  each 
visit  makes  me  more  sad  an'  lonely.  But  me 
feelin's  is  gittin'  th'  start  o'  me.  Sort  o'  'fects 
ye  some,  too,  don't  it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  general,  as  he  brushed  away 
a  tear,  "but  go  on." 

"Want  th'  rest  o'  th'  story?  Wall,  'nother 
cigar  an'  ye  shall  hev  it.  Now,  there  ain't  no 
man  as  can  say  Uncle  Zach  has  wronged  'im. 
But  I  owe  lots  o'  debts  jis'  as  I  do  you — fer  keep- 
in'  an'  hoss  feed  an'  tobackie.  I've  worked  hard, 
but  th'  Injuns  'as  robbed  me  an'  burnt  me  out 
s'  often,  I'm  erbout  done  fer  now.  Another  leetle 
nip  o'  brandy,  an'  raise  me  feet  a  little.  There. 

171 


But  I  ain't  giv  up  yit,  an'  mebbe  I'll  git  a  little 
start  ag'in,  fer  I  kin  do  mos'  any  kind  o'  work. 
I've  follered  ever'thing  f'om  mule  culture  t'  sav 
in'  souls,  an'  I  reckon  I  kin  turn  me  ban'  t' 
somethin'  ag'in.  An'  I  want  t'  tell  ye — fer  I've 
tried  both  an'  ought  t'  know — ef  it's  clippin' 
kewpons  er  mules'  tails  yer  choosin'  fer  a  per- 
fession,  clip  th'  kewpons.  It's  more  prof'table 
an'  not  so  danger's.  But  ef  I  knowed  me  wife 
an'  babies  wus  gone,  I  would  be  ready  t'  go,  too. 
Sometimes  I  think  mebbe  they're  livin'  yit,  an' 
ef  ye  ever  hear  uv  'em,  go  an'  git  'em,  fer  I  know 
ye'll  treat  'em  kind.  What  wus  it,  gen'ral,  thet 
Shakespeare  said  'bout  yer  wife,  the  woman  ye 
love?" 

"She  is  mine  own, 

And  I  as  rich  in  having  such  a  jewel  as  twenty  seas, 

If  all  their  sands  were  pearls, 

The  water  nectar,  and  the  rocks  pure  gold." 

"  Thet's  it.  An'  a  home  like  th'  one  painted 
in  th'  book  o'  Brahma.  What  does  it  say  ?" 

"  When  the  one  man  loves  the  one  woman,  and 
the  one  woman  loves  the  one  man,  the  very  angels 
leave  heaven,  and  come  and  sit  in  that  house  and 
sing  for  joy." 

"  An'  I  loved  th'  one  woman,  an'  she  loved 
th'  one  man  all  right,  fer  she  went  t'  th'  brink 
o'  th'  grave  t'  bring  me  th'  babies,  th'  faires' 
forms  I  ever  knowed.  My  God !  Who  wouldn't 
give  up  even  th'  wealth  an'  power  o'  th'  world 
fer  childern  uv  'is  own  ?  'Fer  uv  sich  is  th'  King 
dom  uv  Heaven.'  An'  now,  gen'ral,  here's  a 
paper;  me  las'  will  an'  test'ment.  It's  Rabelais's, 
but  it  suited  me  case,  an'  I  jis'  'dopted  it  fer  me 
own.  Ye'll  be  my  exec'ter  'thout  bonds." 

172 


The  general  took  the  much  worn  paper  from 
the  trembling  hand  and  read: 

"  I  owe  much,  I  have  nothing,  I  give  the  rest 
to  the  poor." 

We  carried  the  old  man  to  the  couch,  cov 
ered  him  with  blankets  and  robes,  and  he  was 
soon  fast  asleep. 


173 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

It  was  noon  the  next  day  when  Charley 
reached  Binkleman  and  dismounted  in  front  of 
Rubidau's  store.  It  was  snowing,  the  wind  was 
blowing  hard  from  the  northwest,  and  it  was 
bitter  cold. 

"Whar's  of  Doctor  Sawem?"  asked  Charley, 
as  he  rushed  into  the  store,  hardly  stopping  to 
greet  the  boys — a  dozen  or  more,  who  were  hov 
ering  about  the  stove. 

"  The  doctor's  over  on  Burntwood,"  said 
Parsley,  the  liveryman,  who  happened  to  be  at 
the  store.  "Don't  think  he'll  be  back  t'night, 
either,  fer  the  storm'll  be  in  'is  face  an'  he  ain't 
much  more'n  got  there  by  this  time.  Step  down 
by  the  stove,  and  drink  some  hot  Scotch,  while 
I  put  yer  bosses  in  the  barn.  Had  anything 
ter  eat?" 

"  Not  sence  supper  las'  night,  but  thet  don't 
bother  me  much.  Ye  see,  we  wus  all  up  on  th' 
head  o'  Rock  crick  a-huntin'  buffalo,  an'  got 
caught  in  th'  big  storm,  an'  while  we  wus  out, 
we  foun'  of  Uncle  Zach  jis'  nearly  froze.  We 
got  'im  down  t'  General  Clark's  place,  an'  he's 
'bout  done  fer,  an'  th'  only  hope  ter  save  'im  is 
t'  amp'tate  'is  feet,  an'  thets  got  t'  be  done  quick." 

"  Ye  give  yer  bosses  a'  awful  ride,  Charley, 
both  too  tired  t'  eat,"  said  the  liveryman  as  he 
returned  to  the  store. 

174 


"  Yas,  I  reckon  I  did,  an'  ye  must  keer  well 
fer  'em  an'  git  me  two  uv  yer  best  goers  ready 
as  soon  as  ye  kin.  I'm  goin'  fer  th'  doctor." 

"  No  use,  Charley,  ye  couldn't  fin'  'im,  an'  ef 
ye  did  th'  ol'  doc  'uld  never  start  out  in  sich  a 
storm." 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  storekeeper,  a  big 
fat,  good-natured  Frenchman,  who  always 
favored  delays,  especially  those  which  kept  the 
boys  at  his  store.  There  were  card  tables,  plenty 
of  "oh-be- joyful,"  and  a  nail  keg  at  the  end  of 
the  bar  that  he  used  for  a  cash  tray. 

"  Don't  rush  off ;  hev  'nother  drink.  Come 
up,  boys ;  yes,  I'll  git  in  meself .  Ye  see,  Charley, 
we  all  love  Uncle  Zach,  but  what's  th'  use  o' 
you  freezin'  fer  one  like  'im?" 

"  I'll  eat  some,  an'  then  I'm  goin'.  Ef  I  fin' 
th'  doctor  he'll  jis'  come  'long,  'cause  I  come 
after  'im,"  said  Charley,  as  he  turned  to  go.  "I 
like  yer  comp'ny,  but  I  mus'  keep  me  promises." 

"  He'll  not  coom,  ah,"  said  Sewer  Sewerson, 
the  big  Swede  from  the  "J.  B."  ranch,  on  the 
Platte.  "I  tank  it  been  too  cold,"  and  all  agreed 
with  Sewer. 

"  No  use,  Charley,  come  an'  have  a  drink  'ith 
me,"  said  another  of  the  boys.  "Ye  c'n  then  go  an' 
eat  a  bite  an'  we'll  put  in  time  at  cyards." 

"  Jis'  look  out ;  she's  a  three-day-an'-night 
storm,  all  right." 

"  Ye'll  hev  two  o'  yer  bes'  hosses  ready  in 
fifteen  minutes,  Parsley,  fer  I'm  goin'  to  Burnt- 
wood,  soon  's  I  eat,"  and  he  left  the  boys  holding 
their  glasses  and  wondering  if  he  really  intend 
ed  going. 

175 


They  watched  him  until  he  crossed  the  street, 
and  saw  him  go  into  the  Old  Valley  hotel. 

"  He's  safe,  boys,"  said  the  storekeeper.  "Ye 
know  th'  widdy  's  sweet  on  'im,  don't  ye?" 

"Sence  when?"  asked  Bar  T.  Ike. 

"  Oh,  way  las'  winter.  She  nu'sed  'im  through 
a  long  sick  spell  an'  they've  ben  as  chummy  as 
two  skimmed-milk  calves  ever  sence.  Didn't 
ye  know  thet?" 

"Well,  now  thet  do  settle  it.  He'll  not  go 
then,  fer  her  firs'  man  froze  in  no  worse  a  bliz 
zard  'an  this.  Here's  to  th'  widdy,  th'  mos'  likely 
heifer  in  town,"  and  the  glasses  clinked  while 
the  proprietor  raked  over  another  silver  dollar 
and  dropped  it  into  the  nail  keg. 

"  Charley,  me  b'y,"  said  Mrs.  McGrady,  as  he 
entered  the  house,  "how  air  ye?  It's  han'somer 
yer  gittin'  ivery  day,"  and  she  took  Charley  by 
the  arm  and  led  him  up  to  the  stove. 

"  Ye'll  hev  me  some  dinner  's  soon  's  ye 
kin,  fer  I  got  t'  go  t'  Burntwood  fer  th'  doctor," 
said  Charley,  as  he  held  her  warm  hands,  blush 
ing  from  one  corner  of  his  mouth  to  the  other, 
which  meant  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  Ye'll  shtay  b'  me  warm  shtove  till  th'  shtorm 
is  over.  Ye  remimber  me  dear  brother,  Moike, 
an',  an'  me  husban'  that  wus  only  marri'd  to 
me  a  few  wakes,  don't  ye,  Charley?  'Twas  a 
shtorm  loike  this,  an'  in  th'  afthernoon  two  years 
ago  this  very  month  that  they  froze,  an' — "  But 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  apron  and  com 
menced  to  cry. 

"  There  now,  there  now,  thet'll  do,"  said  Char 
ley,  as  he  stroked  back  a  curl  that  hung  down 
over  her  forehead.  "They  didn't  know  th'  road 

176 


an'  got  lost.  But  how's  th'  dinner?  I'm  hun- 
grier'n  a  wolf.  Ain't  hed  a  bite  sence  las'  night 
1>out  six-thirty." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  riddy  now.  Come  in,"  and  she 
took  a  chair  beside  him.  "An'  it's  a  moighty 
hard  time  I've  had,  too.  Yer  'bout  th'  only  rale 
frind  left  me,  an'  yer  'goin'  t'  shtay  wid  me  a 
few  days  t'  kape  me  company.  Ye  look  so  much 
loike  me  darlint  husban'  I've  a  moind  ter  kiss 
ye." 

Charley  did  not  reply,  but  asked  about  the 
different  riders  who  had  stopped  at  the  hotel 
the  past  week.  Continuing,  he  said: 

"  I  think  I'll  be  back  b'  twelve  t'night.  Ye'll 
be  kind  'nough  to  hev  a  good  fire  an'  some  hot 
coffee,  fer  we  got  t'  go  on  t'  Rock  crick.  Don't 
cry,  now,  'tain't  a  very  bad  storm,  an'  I'll  be 
back  b'  midnight,  I  reckon." 

"  Och,  Charley,  I  beg  of  yez  not  t'  go.  If 
you'll—" 

"  Mary,  I  must  go.  Don't  ask  me  t'  stay. 
Thet  pore  ol'  man'll  die  'f  I  don't  git  th'  doctor. 
There,  now,"  and  he  kissed  her  and  disappeared 
around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

She  watched  him  mount  and  ride  away,  and 
as  she  looked  she  feared  he  would  never  return. 

It  was  getting  dusk  when  Charley  rode  up  to 
the  Wilson  ranch  and  called  out:  "Is  Doctor 
Sawem  here?  Then  please  tell  'im  ter  come 
out." 

"  Good  evenin',  Charley,  good  evenin',"  said 
the  doctor,  as  he  opened  the  door.  "Better  git 
yer  bosses  in  th'  stable,  an'  come  in  out  o'  th* 
storm.  Gettin'  furious,  ain't  it?" 

177 


"  I  want  ye  t'  come  t'  Rock  crick  with  me 
t'night,  t'  ten'  ol'  Uncle  Zach.  He's  froze  nigh 
to  death,  an'  ye've  got  t'  go  an'  amp'tate  'is 
feet  'r  he'll  die.  Git  ready,  right  away." 

"  Can't  go  fer  an  hour,  anyway.  They's  a 
new  baby  just  arove  here,  an'  I've  got  to  watch 
'ith  th'  little  feller  'while,  an'  give  some  orders 
fer  th'  care  o'  th'  mother.  Go  an'  feed  yer 
hosses,  an'  come  in  an'  git  a  bite  t'  eat.  My 
sakes — awful  storm!" 

When  Charley  had  put  his  horses  in  the 
stable,  he  went  into  the  house  and  received  a 
kindly  greeting. 

"  Didn't  suffer  much,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  a 
question  as  to  the  weather.  "It'll  be  wuss  goin' 
back,  fer  we  got  t'  face  it;  but  I  reckon  we  kin 
stan'  it,  can't  we,  doctor?" 

"Well,  we  can  try.  If  we  fall  by  the 
way — well,  we  fall  by  the  way,  that's  all.  Eat  a 
bite  an'  we  will  be  goin'." 

When  the  horses  were  brought  out  the  doc 
tor  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  finally  mounted 
and  they  were  off.  The  wind  was  sweeping  over 
the  high  divide  at  a  thirty-mile  gait,  and  the 
snow  was  falling  faster  than  ever.  They  could 
not  see  the  trail,  so  bending  down  over  their 
saddle  horns,  they  pushed  on. 

"  It  wus  a  great  ride  we  made,"  said  Charley, 
as  they  rode  into  the  barn,  almost  frozen. 

"  Come  on,  Doc,  we'll  go  down  t'  th'  hotel 
an'  git  somethin'  t'  eat." 

"  Be  the  howly  St.  Patrick,  'f  ye  ain't  back ; 
an'  it's  a  good,  hot  fire  I've  got  fer  ye,"  said 
Mrs.  McGrady,  as  she  extended  a  hand  to  each. 

178 


"  'Twas  the  ghosts  o'  ye  both  I  could  see, 
whin  I  shet  me  eyes.  Ye'll  drink  some  hot  cof 
fee,  now,  an'  ate  th'  lunch  I've  saved  fer  ye,  an'' 
shtay  in  me  house  'til  marnin'.  It's  a  woman 
that  knows  th'  worth  of  a  good  man  whin  she's 
lost  wan,  an'  it's  purty  close  to  me  ye  air,  Char 
ley,"  and  she  sat  down  on  his  lap  and  put  her 
arms  around  his  neck. 

"  I  reckon  I  am,  Mary ;  but  ye  better  jar 
loose,  fer  th'  doctor  '11  be  back  in  a  minut'.  He 
jis'  stepped  out  fer  a  drink." 

"  Och !  Ye'll  not  think  me  forward,  docthor. 
I  wus  jis'  lookin'  afther  th'  comfort  uv  me  guest 
here." 

"  Never  mind,  I  think  a  little  o'  that'd  help 
t'  warm  me  up." 

"  G'wan,  now,  an'  none  o'  yer  back  talk. 
An'  what  do  yez  want — a  bid  ?"  said  she,  address 
ing  the  big  Swede,  as  he  entered  the  hotel  office 
and  took  a  chair  by  the  stove. 

"  No,  I  tank  not.  I  coom  ter  see  if  Charley 
got  back.  Yas — hello,  Charley;  how  air  ye? 
Better  ye  hide  out,  fer  Arkansaw  Bill's  over  't 
th'  store,  an'  he  do  you  upe.  Goot  night !" 

"  Now,  I  reckon  I  ain't  lost  no  trouble,  but 
Bill  mus'n't  try  ter  stampede  me  t'night,"  said 
Charley,  as  he  moved  around  to  the  side  of  the 
table  so  he  could  face  the  door.  When  he  had 
finished  eating,  he  drew  his  pistol,  examined  it 
carefully  and  replaced  it  in  his  belt.  As  Bill 
and  he  had  always  been  good  friends,  the  re 
mark  of  Sewer  did  not  excite  the  doctor  and 
Mrs.  McGrady,  they  thinking  it  was  a  joke. 

"Ye'll  excuse  me  a  minut'  till  I  walk  over 
t'  Rubidau's  an'  git  a  bottle  o'  brandy,  an'  in- 

179 


c'dent'lly  t'  see  how  th'  storm  is.  Ye'll  be  ready 
in  fifteen  minut's,  doctor,  an'  we'll  start  fer  Rock 
crick." 

Bill,  having  no  idea  that  Charley  was  in  the 
country,  had  drifted  into  town  with  the  storm, 
and  finding  the  usual  gang  at  the  store  had  told 
them  of  his  troubles  during  the  Indian  excite 
ment;  also  how  he  had  made  the  general,  Char 
ley,  Speck  and  I  apologize  for  riding  across  the 
trail  in  front  of  him,  and  that  it  would  be  his 
particular  business  whenever  he  met  one  of  us 
to  see  that  we  ate  a  little  dirt  for  the  amuse 
ment  of  the  boys. 

Charley  walked  into  the  store,  but  Bill  not 
noticing  him,  called  for  another  drink.  As  the 
glasses  were  raised,  he  said : 

"  Thet's  jis'  what  I'll  do,  make  'em  eat  dirt. 
I'm  a  bad  man  from  Arkansaw,  an'  never  leave 
a  trail.  Raised  a  pet  an'  gone  wild !"  and  he 
drew  his  sixshooter  and  took  a  couple  of  shots 
at  some  tinware  at  the  farther  end  of  the  store. 

"Then  I  guess  I'll  tame  ye  a  little,"  said 
Charley,  as  he  walked  up  and  placed  his  hand 
on  Bill's  shoulder. 

The  crowd  scattered,  dodging  behind  boxes 
and  barrels,  for  all  knew  Charley,  and  expected 
Bill  to  make  good,  but  he  didn't.  He  was  so  ex 
cited  that  he  dropped  his  sixshooter,  and  looked 
the  coward  he  really  was.  Charley  had  not 
drawn  his  revolver,  but  from  the  position  of 
his  right  hand  could  have  done  so  quicker  than 
I  could  tell  it. 

"  My  boots  're  a  little  dirty,  Bill,  an'  I  reckon 
ye'd  better  git  down  an'  lick  'em  off.  There's  a 
little  froze  grease  on  'em,  but  mebbe  that'll  do 

1 80 


ye  good — might  kind  o'  quiet  yer  nerves.  Air 
ye  gittin'  down?  Ye'll  lick  me  spurs,  too.  They 
may  stick  t  'yer  tongue  some,  they're  so  cold, 
but  ye'll  do  a  good  job.  Now  ye  kin  hike.  No, 
come  back  an'  git  yer  gun.  Tell  th'  boys  ye 
like  boot  grease."  Bill  obeyed.  Charley  turned 
to  the  barkeeper,  bought  the  bottle  of  brandy, 
and  as  he  turned  to  go,  said : 

"  I'll  now  bid  ye  good  night,  fer  I  got  t'  take 
th'  doctor  t'  Rock  crick ;  an',  Bill—"  but  Bill  had 
slipped  out  through  the  back  door.  "Well,  tell 
Bill,  'f  ye  see  'im,  thet  I'll  be  back  'bout  Chris'- 
mas  an'  I'll  give  'im  Another  job  o'  lickin'  my 
boots,  'f  he's  got  any  tongue  left." 

He  bade  them  good  night  again,  walked  back 
to  the  hotel,  leaving  the  worst  disgusted  crowd 
he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life.  Men  in  those  days 
despised  a  bluffer,  and  made  no  attempt  to  con 
ceal  their  hatred. 

"  Some  people's  bad  off  b'sides  what  ails  'em," 
said  Charley,  as  he  walked  past  the  doctor,  who 
had  fallen  asleep  by  the  office  stove,  and  took 
a  chair  beside  Mrs.  McGrady  in  the  dining 
room. 

"'N  phat's  that?" 

"  I  wus  thinkin'  uv  Bill.  Mebbe  he's  a  little 
drunk,  so  'f  'e  comes  in,  give  'im  a  good,  warm 
bed,  fer  it's  too  col'  t'  sleep  out." 

"I  will  thot.  Now,  howld  shtill.  I  b'lave 
yer  ears  're  frosted,  Charley." 

"Yas,  Mary." 

"  Do  ye  love—" 

"  Hosses  ready !"  yelled  the  liveryman,  "an' 
I  wisht  ye'd  come  on.  Ye  kin  chaw  each  other's 

181 


necks   some  time  when  they's  nobody   standin' 
out  in  th'  cold  half  froze  a-waitin'  fer  ye." 

"  I  reckon  we'll  make  it  in  b'  six  o'clock  to- 
morrie  night,"  said  Charley,  as  he  buttoned  his 
coat  and  started  out.  "Come,  doctor,  th'  hosses 
're  ready,"  and  both  were  soon  bending  over 
their  ponies'  necks  to  protect  their  faces  from 
the  terrible  storm. 


182 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

At  the  ranch  we  could  only  wait  and  watch 
for  Charley  and  the  doctor.  The  hours  grew 
longer  and  longer,  and  «we  feared  they  were  lost 
in  the  snow.  Uncle  Zach  had  borne  his  suffer 
ing  bravely,  but  had  gradually  grown  weaker. 
We  could  not  get  out  to  assist  Charley  and  the 
doctor  in  any  way,  for  we  did  not  know  in  what 
direction  to  go. 

"  No  use  to  think  of  going,"  said  the  gen 
eral,  when  I  asked  if  I  had  better  not  ride  out  a 
few  miles  and  see  if  I  could  find  them.  "They 
may  come  up  the  creek,  and  they  may  come 
across  the  sand  hills.  I  wish  we  might  assist 
them  in  some  way,  but  I  fear  we  can't.  All  we 
can  do  is  wait  and  hope  they  will  get  here  all 
right.  This  evening  at  six  will  be  forty-eight 
hours  since  Charley  left,  and  he  is  either  near 
here  now  or  hopelessly  lost." 

"  Den  it's  only  dree  hours  ven  dey  coom  al- 
retty,"  said  Speck,  as  he  got  up  and  looked  out 
of  the  window  for  the  hundredth  time.  Old  Bud 
came  in  occasionally  to  warm  and  tell  us  about 
his  corns. 

"  I  knew  it  'd  storm  hard,  fer  I  kin  allus  tell. 
Ever  have  corns,  miss?  Sure  sign  uv  a  storm 
when  they  hurt.  May  be  a  long  time  a-comin', 
but  it'll  come." 

"  No,  Bud,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "I'm  not  troubled 
with  corns." 

183 


"Troubled?  W'y,  sometimes  I  think  they're 
a  blessin'.  One  corn  '11  make  ye  fergit  yer  own 
troubles,  two  '11  make  yer  fergit  yer  naber's 
troubles,  an'  three's  a  circus  an'  Indian  war  dance 
c'mbined.  An'  anybody  'at  'Id  want  more'n  three 
good,  ambitious  corns  't  a  time  ought  t'  be  'rested 
fer  horns woglery." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Wall,  thet's  what  I  call  Christian  science.  I 
took  it  oncet  fer  corns.  The  feller  says,  'Now  don't 
think  o'  yer  corns,  an'  they  won't  hurt.'  Wall, 
I  thought,  'Mr.  Johnson  (his  name  wus  John 
son),  you  air  a  liar,'  an'  even  while  I  wus  a-think- 
in'  thet  short  sentence,  th'  corns  wus  hurtin*  right 
'long.  No,  they  didn't  even  stop  while  I  wus 
a-callin'  him  a  liar." 

"  But  you  had  no  faith.  You  know  the  good 
book  tells  us  if  you  have  faith  you  can  remove 
mountains." 

"  Yas,  but  't  takes  a  good,  sharp  knife  'long 
'ith  yer  faith  t'  r'move  corns.  But  I'd  better  go 
an'  see  after  th'  hosses.  Mighty  bad  storm,  an' 
th'  snow  's  drifted  in  all  th'  stalls.  I  jis'  come  in 
t'  tell  ye  as  how  Beaut  got  'er  front  foot  over 
the  hitch  rope  an'  burnt  'er  laig  a  little,  an*  t' 
git  some  lin'ment.  Don't  be  skeert ;  she  ain't  hurt 
much.  She'll  be  all  right  in  a  day  'r  two."  and 
he  started  back  to  the  stable. 

"  Corns,  corns,"  said  the  general,  as  he  threw 
up  his  hands  and  leaned  back  to  laugh.  "Corns ! 
Well,  I'm  glad  he  has  relieved  himself  about  his 
corns.  I  knew  it  was  coming;  he  never  fails  to 
lecture  us  on  corns  when  it  storms.  Annoy  you, 
Blue  Eye?" 

184 


"  No,  not  in  the  least.  He  is  so  kind  to  the 
horses  that  I  overlook  his  corn  troubles.  I  could 
love  anyone  who  is  kind  to  my  pets." 

"  Dey's  a-coomin' !  dey's  a-coomin' !"  shouted 
Speck,  as  he  rushed  in  waving  his  hat  and  throw 
ing  snow  all  over  the  room.  "Right  down  dere," 
and  he  started  out  to  take  their  horses. 

"  Come  in  to  the  fire,  boys,"  said  the  general, 
as  he  clasped  their  hands.  "The  hours  have 
seemed  long,  and  we  are  glad  the  suspense  is 
over." 

"How  air  ye,  Uncle  Zach?"  said  Charley,  as 
he  shook  the  old  man's  hand. 

"  Not  very  well.  I've  suffered  some,  but  not 
's  much  's  you  hev,  bein'  out  'n  th'  storm.  I 
wisht  ye  hadn't  o'  went,  fer  I  don't  think  th'  doc 
tor  kin  do  me  any  good,  an'  I'm  sorry  ye  both 
suffered  so  on  my  'count." 

The  doctor  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  Uncle 
Zach,  then  shook  his  head.  Finally  he  went  over 
to  the  couch,  took  the  bandages  from  Uncle 
Zach's  feet,  felt  his  pulse  a  minute,  then  turned 
back  to  the  fire. 

"You've  done  all  that  could  be  done,  gen 
eral,  but  'is  strength's  almost  gone.  There's  only 
one  chance  t'  save  'im,  an'  that  is  by  amputatin' 
his  feet.  If  you  think  best,  I'll  do  that  as  soon 
as  my  hands  are  warm  enough  t'  hold  the  knife." 

"  Doctor,  we  have  sent  for  you,  and  if  it  is 
in  your  power  to  save  the  man's  life,  I  want  you 
to  do  it.  Can  you  stand  the  shock,  Uncle  Zach? 
The  doctor  says  the  only  chance  you  have  is  to 
amputate  your  feet." 

185 


"Yas,  gen'ral,  I  kin  stan'  it.  Hev  'em  cut 
five  feet  six  inches  'bove  th'  soles  o'  me  feet. 
Now  I'm  not  complainin'  ner  tryin'  t'  dictate  to 
ye,  but  jis'  suggestin'  what  'Id  be  bes'  fer  me. 
Ef  I  live  after  hevin'  me  feet  cut  off,  I'd  be  a 
burden  t'  you  an'  yer  fambly,  so  ye'd  better  do  th' 
cuttin'  jis'  under  me  chin." 

"Poor  old  man!"  said  the  doctor,  after  he 
had  given  him  the  anaesthetic.  In  a  few  moments 
the  operation  was  completed.  Both  feet  were 
taken  off  just  above  the  ankle  joint.  It  was 
midnight  when  Uncle  Zach  revived  and  called 
for  the  doctor. 

"  I  knowd  ye  wouldn't  do  's  I  tol'  ye,  but  it's 
all  th'  same,  fer  I'll  soon  go  to  me  long  sleep. 
Sorry  I  can't  pay  ye  now,  doctor,  but  I  got  some 
cattle  out  on  th'  range  somewheres,  an'  nex'  sum 
mer  the  boys'll  ship  'em  an'  pay  yer  bill." 

"  The  general  has  just  given  me  a  check  fer 
two  hundred  dollars,  so  you  don't  owe  me  any 
thing." 

"  God  bless  that  man.  He  is  one  that  age 
can't  wither,  ner  custom  stale  his  infinite  variety. 
General,  come  here,  an'  tell  th'  folks  t'  come,  as 
Uncle  Zach  wants  t'  shake  hands  with  all  of  ye." 

It  was  two  o'clock  the  next  morning  when 
the  doctor  closed  Uncle  Zach's  eyes  and  told 
us  he  was  dead.  Being  almost  exhausted  from 
the  worry  and  excitement  of  the  past  week  all 
retired  except  Speck  and  I,  we  remaining  up  to 
keep  watch  over  the  body  of  our  old  friend. 

The  next  morning  a  coffin  was  made  and 
lined,  a  grave  prepared,  and  the  body  of  Uncle 
Zach  was  laid  to  rest.  Blue  Eye  read  the  Episco- 

186 


pal  burial  service  and  the  general  delivered  the 
funeral  oration.  Although  there  were  but  twelve 
of  us,  all  stood  with  bared  heads  for  an  hour  in 
the  storm,  listening  to  the  tribute  to  that  old 
pioneer.  After  reviewing  the  life  of  old  Uncle 
Zach  and  his  associates,  the  general  said: 

"  He  feared  God  and  loved  his  fellow  man. 
There  are  others  who  have  braved  as  many  dan 
gers  as  he,  some  whose  bodies  show  as  many 
scars  from  Indian  arrows  and  bullets,  but  none 
among  them  who  had  a  more  kindly  heart.  The 
names  of  our  pioneers  were  not  born  to  die, 
for  they  have  beaten  the  trails  and  assisted  in 
keeping  the  Indians  on  their  reservations,  that 
settlers  might  build  their  homes  upon  these  lands ; 
but  it  was  ever  thus.  The  foundations  of  states 
are  always  laid  on  aching  hearts.  It  is  said 
Blucher  the  morning  after  a  great  battle  would 
ride  over  the  field,  and  when  his  attention  was 
called  to  the  upturned  faces  of  the  dead,  would 
say,  'It  has  to  be  so.  Those  men  were  born  for 
that.  That  is  the  way  civilization  works  out  its 
advancement/  This  poor  human  life  does  not 
seem  to  be  of  much  value  in  the  economy  of 
nature,  and  no  mortal  can  figure  out,  unless  he 
raises  his  eyes  to  heaven,  anything  like  a  reason 
able  compensation  for  this  life's  work.  I  re 
member  an  engagement  over  on  the  Platte 
where  we  fought  the  Indians  for  nine  hours. 
Half  of  our  company  were  killed  or  wounded, 
and  after  the  battle  was  over  Uncle  Zach  took  a 
little  babe  in  his  arms  and  rode  two  hundred 
miles  back  into  the  settlements  to  find  it  a  home. 
He  thought  nothing  about  his  own  safety  or  his 
wounds — that  babe  should  have  a  home.  Its 

187 


parents  had  been  killed,  and  he  risked  his  own 
life  that  the  child  might  be  saved.  Again,  when 
we  were  following  a  band  of  Indians  up  the  Big 
Sandy,  who  had  been  killing  settlers  and  burning 
their  homes,  we  came  to  an  immigrant  camp,  the 
sole  survivor  of  three  families  being  a  little  girl 
about  five  years  old.  She  was  hid  away  in  the 
corner  of  one  of  the  wagons.  After  we  had 
buried  the  mangled  forms  of  the  dead,  Uncle 
Zach  took  the  child  in  his  arms.  'General/  said 
he,  'give  me  a  leave  of  absence;  I  must  take  this 
babe  to  Kit  Carson  and  send  her  to  the  orphans' 
home  at  Denver.'  The  child  looked  at  him  a 
moment,  then  said: 

'' '  I  don't  want  to  go  with  you ;  you  killed  my 
papa  and  mamma/ 

"  '  No,  my  dear,'  said  Uncle  Zach,  'the  Indians 
killed  them.' 

; '  No  they  didn't ;  they  just  knocked  them 
over,  and  they  would  have  got  up  and  took  care  of 
me  if  you  hadn't  dug  holes  and  put  them  in  the 
ground  and  covered  them  up.' 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  mother  weep  over 
her  babe  ?  Her  grief  was  no  greater  than  Uncle 
Zach's  when  he  found  he  could  not  convince  the 
child  that  we  did  not  kill  her  father  and  mother. 
But  we  sent  her  to  Denver,  and  I  thank  God  she 
has  learned  to  know  we  were  her  friends.  Each 
year  Uncle  Zach  sent  her  money,  at  times  going 
hungry  that  the  child  might  have  better  ad 
vantages.  He  took  no  praise  for  his  good  deeds. 
He  only  did  what  he  thought  was  right,  and  trod 
with  the  masses  the  humble  ways  of  life.  The 
people  of  the  great  West  are  the  beneficiaries  of 

188 


the  sacrifices  of  his  life  of  duty.  So  absolutely 
true  and  honest,  I  cannot  but  realize  the  thought 
of  the  witch  bound  champion  of  Scott's  legion : 

"  I'd  give  the  lands  of  Deloraine, 
Dark  Musgrave  were  alive  again." 


189 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

I  left  the  ranch  immediately  after  the  death 
of  Uncle  Zach,  and  spent  a  month  in  the  hospital 
at  Denver.  My  shoulder  was  causing  me  so 
much  trouble  that  I  resolved  to  have  the  bullet 
cut  out  and  carry  it  in  my  pocket  instead  of  un 
der  my  shoulder  blade.  This  done,  I  returned 
home  and  found  everything  had  gone  well  at 
Rock  creek.  Blue  Eye  had  grown  more  hand 
some  during  my  absence,  and  I  often  mentioned 
the  fact  to  her.  But  when  I  spoke  to  her  of  love 
and  how  near  and  dear  she  was  to  me,  she  would 
reply  that  she  was  grateful  for  what  I  had  done 
for  her,  and  she  hoped  to  be  able  to  repay  me  in 
a  small  degree. 

She  had  such  a  happy  way  of  avoiding  my 
questions  that  when  I  commenced  talking  of  love, 
she  replied  as  though  I  had  been  talking  of 
some  one  else.  Thus  the  winter  passed,  and  al 
though  determined  to  get  some  expression  from 
her  before  I  should  leave,  I  finally  gave  up  all 
hope  and  planned  to  go  back  to  the  Arickaree  to 
begin  work.  She  had  told  the  general  and  his 
family  of  her  great  love  for  me,  and  although  I 
knew  this,  I  could  not  get  her  to  say  so  to  me. 
She  went  to  Mrs.  Clark  for  advice  as  though  she 
were  her  mother,  and  when  she  asked  what  she 
should  say  to  me,  Mrs.  Clark  replied : 

"  Go  to  him  and  tell  him  you  love  him,  for  I 
know  you  do.  He  has  surely  proven  himself 

190 


worthy,  and  you  should  not  keep  him  in  suspense 
any  longer." 

"  Well,  when  he  asks  me  again  I  will,"  she 
said,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  but  she  did  not. 

"  You  will  return  next  fall  and  spend  the  win 
ter  with  us,"  said  the  general  as  I  was  taking 
my  leave.  "We  will  keep  Blue  Eye,  and  while 
we  expect  to  see  you  during  the  summer,  when 
the  roundup  is  over  you  are  to  come  back." 

Blue  Eye  came  out,  patted  Muggins  on  the 
neck,  then  waved  her  hand  until  I  disappeared 
around  a  bend  in  the  creek. 

"  Afraid  you  might  not  come  back,"  said  Dan, 
as  I  rode  up  to  the  Three  Bar  ranch  that  even 
ing  and  asked  if  he  had  kept  a  place  for  me. 

"  Thought  maybe  you  might  stay  with  the  gen 
eral,  but  glad  you  didn't.  You  are  better  ac 
quainted  with  the  southern  range  (meaning 
south  of  the  Arkansas),  so  I  have  concluded  to 
send  you  and  Charley  down  there.  You  are  to 
bring  back  everything  that  belongs  up  here,  no 
matter  whose  brand  it  wears." 

I  knew  this  meant  a  three  months'  trip  in  a 
country  I  was  not  in  love  with,  but  I  made  no 
reply,  except  to  ask  when  we  were  to  start. 

"  Tomorrow.  You  can  take  the  Johnson 
string  of  horses,  the  best  there  is  on  the  ranch, 
unless  it  is  Charley's  string.  Our  wagon  will  be 
at  Los  Animas  about  the  first  of  July,  and  I  will 
send  you  both  some  fresh  horses." 

It  was  the  fourth  of  May  when  Charley  and  I 
started  for  the  southern  range,  with  two  of  the 
finest  strings  of  nine  horses  each  that  ever  crossed 
the  Arkansas.  The  foreman  knew  there  was 
hard  work  before  us,  and  selected  the  best  horses 

191 


that  wore  the  Three  Bar  brand.  We  camped  the 
first  night  out  on  the  south  fork  of  the  Republi 
can,  at  the  point  where  I  had  camped  when  re 
turning  from  Kit  Carson  with  the  money.  The 
bones  of  old  Tige,  my  old  pack  horse,  lay  near, 
bleaching  in  the  sun. 

"  I  allus  hate  this  ride,"  said  Charley,  as  we 
packed  our  beds  the  next  morning,  and  started  for 
Kit  Carson. 

"  Sixty-five  miles  'thout  water  kind  o'  makes 
me  dread  th'  trip.  But  we  ought  t'  make  it  b* 
half  pas'  three,  'nless  we  hev  a  sick  hoss  er 
somethin'  t'  bother  us.  I  wus  jis'  a-thinkin'," 
he  continued,  as  we  pushed  the  horses  into  the 
trail  ahead  of  us  and  started  out,  "uv  th'  trip  I 
made  over  this  trail  with  th'  Bar  T.  kid  summer 
'fore  las'.  We  wus  a-comin'  up  th'  river  with 
th'  roundup,  an'  it  wus  th'  boy's  firs'  trip  out,  an' 
besides  'e  wus  young  an'  tender,  not  more  'n 
fifteen.  We  called  'im  Si.  He'd  hired  t'  thet 
outfit  t'  wrangle  bosses,  but  'e  got  t'  thinkin'  'e 
'd  make  a  snake  charmer.  We'd  all  tol'  'im  t'  let 
snakes  'lone,  but  'e  wus  smart  like  an'  kep'  a-fool- 
in'  with  'em.  Wall,  down  at  th'  mouth  o'  th' 
Lansman  he  gets  bit,  but  I  think  it  wus  a  bull 
snake,  fer  it  never  made  'im  sick,  an'  I  guess  this 
kind  o'  made  'im  brave.  He  kep'  a-tellin'  us  as 
how  a  rattler  'd  bit  'im,  but  we  knowed  it  wusn't. 
We  worked  up  this  side  o'  th'  Bar  T.,  an'  wus 
camped  by  th'  big  prairie  dog  town  on  th'  wide 
bottom,  jis'  this  side  o'  th'  pastur'.  We  'd 
warned  th'  lad  t'  keep  'way  f'om  the  dogholes, 
but  he  wanted  a  big  prairie  rattler — an'  he  got 
one.  He  wus  a-ridin'  'long  an'  he  sees  a  big 
yaller  snake  a-sleepin'  on  a  prairie  dog  moun' 

192 


so  'e  throws  'is  quirt  at  'im,  an'  th'  snake  crawls 
into  'is  hole,  all  but  'is  tail.  Now,  ye  know 
w'en  a  snake  goes  into  'is  hole,  he  allus  leaves  'is 
tail  a-stickin'  out  a  little,  an'  doubles  back  so 
'at  'is  head  's  right  by  it.  Th'  boy  didn't  savy 
this,  so  'e  jumps  off  'is  pony,  runs  up  an'  makes 
a  grab  fer  th'  snake's  rattles,  but  'e  didn't  git 
'em.  No,  'e  never  touched  'em.  Jis'  's  'e  made 
th'  grab,  th'  snake  pulled  in  'is  tail  an'  struck  th' 
kid  on  th'  wrist.  Wall,  'is  arm  commenced  t' 
swell  an'  he  got  sick,  an'  th'  worst  uv  all  wus  we 
didn't  hev  a  drop  o'  licker  in  th'  camp.  If  we'd 
a-had  some  licker,  I  think  we'd  o'  saved  'im,  but 
we  didn't  have  any,  so  th'  on'y  thing  t'  do  wus 
t'  take  'im  t'  th'  railroad.  Th'  foreman  turns  tr 
me  an'  says : 

"  '  Charley,  you  take  Si  to  Kit  Carson,'  an'  we 
started.  We  got  up  's  fur  's  th'  Tuttle  ranch 
an'  th'  boy  wus  s'  sick  'e  couldn't  ride  hoss-back 
no  furder.  There  wusn't  no  one  't  th'  ranch 
but  th'  ol*  Scotchman — Scotty,  ye  r'member  'im 
— an'  nary  a  drap,  's  he  put  it,  'bout  th'  ranch. 
He  give  me  th'  ol'  buckboard,  an'  two  cayuses 
'bout  half  broke  t'  wagon,  an'  th'  cussedest,  mean 
est  hosses  ye  ever  see,  an'  we  started  out,  leadin' 
me  saddle  hoss  behin'.  I  wus  a  little  'feared  th' 
ol'  bronks  'd  give  out  er  sulk  on  me,  so  I  led  th' 
saddle  hoss,  knowin'  we'd  be  sure  t'  make  't  in. 
We'd  rolled  Si  in  a  bed  an'  put  'im  in  behin',  fer 
'e  couldn't  set  up,  an'  away  we  went.  We  come 
'long  here  an'  over  t'  th'  nex'  raise  there  mebbe, 
at  'bout  a  two-forty  gait,  when  th'  bronks  flagged 
the'r  tails.  Ther'  wusn't  'nother  run  left  in  'em. 
Si  ''d  kind  o'  raise  up  on  'is  elbow  an'  say,  'A  little 
faster,  Charley,'  then  he'd  lay  down  agin.  We'd 

193 


jog  on  a  while  with  me  a-hammerin'  them  bronks 
on  th'  back.  Purty  soon  he'd  ask  agin,  'Can't 
ye  hurry  a  little,  Charley?'  but  ther'  wusn't  a 
hurry  left  'n  either  hoss.  Then  he'd  lay  down 
an'  I'd  lam  them  inter  a  little  trot.  Wall,  we 
fin'ly  got  to  Sand  crick,  an'  I  couldn't  make  them 
hosses  go  no  furder.  'A  little  faster,  Charley,' 
Si  would  say,  an'  there  we  wus,  stopped  dead  still. 
I  jis'  jumped  out  an'  grabbed  Si  in  one  arm, 
this  way  like,  an*  mounted  th'  ol'  saddle  hoss  an' 
struck  out  carryin'  th'  boy.  I  looked  back  purty 
soon,  though,  an'  I  tell  ye  what's  a  fac',  there 
went  them  dam'  bronks  a  runnin'  away  'cross  th' 
prairie.  Wall,  bye  an'  bye,  they  circled  'roun' 
an'  come  inter  th'  trail  'head  uv  us,  an'  beat  us 
t'  town  four  mile',  head  an'  tail  up  an'  a-kickin' 
at  th'  place  where  th'  dash  board  ought  t'  be. 
Mad !  Now  I  bin  tol'  I  wusn't  a  expert  at  noth 
ing  but  I'll  challenge  th'  world,  Mizzury  included, 
t'  perduce  a  man  thet  kin  do  a  cleaner,  more  up- 
to-date  an'  soul-relievin'  job  o'  swearin'  at  hosses 
'an  I  did.  Ther'  wusn't  no  stammerin',  an'  me 
words  flowed  free  an'  easy.  But  soon  I  felt  sad 
ag'in,  fer  Si'  d  say,  'Hurry,  Charley,  can't  ye 
make  'im  go  a  little  faster?'  Wall,  I  kind  o'  felt 
sorry,  an'  when  I  looked  th'  boy  in  th'  face  I 
knowed  he  wus  a-dyin'.  I  clum  down  somehow, 
a-holdin'  th'  boy,  an'  laid  'im  on  th'  groun'  an' 
hel'  'is  head  on  me  knee.  I  thought  I'd  orter 
pray  fer  'im,  but  Ikind  o'  choked  up,  somehow, 
fer  he'd  keep  a-sayin',  'A  little  faster,  Charley,' 
jis'  whisperin'  so  's  I  could  hear  'im.  I  couldn't 
stan'  it  t'  see  th'  boy  die  thataway,  so  I  picked 
'im  up,  mounted  me  ol'  hoss  an'  rode  on.  Si 
wus  a  good  innercent  boy,  an'  me  heart  wus  sad. 
194 


I  tried  t'  talk  to  'im  some,  but  me  throat  'd  choke 
up,  an'  I  guess  I  cried  a  little,  fer  I  loved  thet 
boy.  Pore  Si,  I  couldn't  save  'im." 

Charley  stopped  talking  for  a  few  moments, 
and  although  he  rode  with  his  face  turned  from 
me,  I  could  see  him  brush  away  the  tears.  I 
think  the  moisture  came  to  my  eyes  also,  for  I 
had  known  the  kind  hearted  lad  of  whom  he 
spoke. 

"  *  Please,  Charley,  hurry,'  wus  th'  las'  words 
he  spoke  t'  me,  fer  'e  died  'bout  four  mile  this  side 
o'  Kit  Carson.  I  carried  'im  on  int'  town  though, 
an'  we  buried  'im  jis'  back  o'  th'  section  house. 
His  arm  'd  swelled  nearly  's  big  's  'is  body  an' 
turned  black  's  me  boot ;  an'  though  I've  bin  over 
this  trail  a  hunderd  times  sence  thet,  me  lef  arm 
allus  feels  tired  's  I  ride  along  here,  an'  I  kin 
hear  some  one  a-whisperin'  t'  me,  Tlease,  Char 
ley,  hurry.'  Now,  I  don't  know  how  ye  feel 
'bout  sich  things,  but  ef  it's  givin'  to  yer  frien's  t' 
revisit  the  places  o'  the'r  youth,  after  gittin'  in 
th'  big  corral  up  there,  then  th'  spir't  o'  Si's  ridin' 
weth  us  now.  When  it's  night,  I  kin  see  'im 
smilin'  an'  happy,  but  'n  th'  day  time  he  rests 
gently  on  me  left  arm,  jis'  'nough  t'  tire  't  a  little, 
an'  whispers  t'  me,  Tlease,  Charley,  hurry/  " 


195 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

When  we  reached  Kit  Carson,  we  found  the 
usual  hangers-on  about  old  Tony's  place,  but  none 
of  them  cared  for  our  company. 

"  Begorra,  Kid,"  said  old  Tony,  as  we  stepped 
into  the  saloon  for  a  cigar,  "Ye'll  hev  one  wid 
me.  It's  thra  toimes  ye've  bin  kilt  sence  ye  wus 
here,  so  ye  bether  take  a  little  pizen  on  th'  house. 
Arkansaw  Bill  has  kilt  ye  twisht,  an'  ould  Sandy, 
thj  Mexican  thot  wint  over  t'  head  ye  off  an'  git 
yer  money  kilt  ye  wance,  but  Bill's  shtill  talkin', 
an'  I  guess  it's  in  hiven  where  Sandy  is  now, 
fer  we  had  t'  roll  'im  in  tin  foil  t'  make  'im  hould 
licker  whin  'e  got  back  here.  Yis,  it's  Sandy 
thot's  dead,  fer  we  planted  'im  out  there  wan 
moonth  ago  tomorrie." 

"  Gwan  now,  ye  dago  shnake  charmer,"  said 
Mrs.  Tony,  as  she  grabbed  up  her  apron  and 
swung  it  over  her  shoulder.  "Gwan  now,  an' 
it's  ye  thot'll  not  come  near  me  table." 

But  we  were  too  hungry  to  pay  any  attention 
to  the  threats  she  made.  The  next  morning  she 
took  a  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  amused 
those  present  with  her  version  of  the  snake  and 
the  drummer.  After  breakfast  we  paid  our  bill 
and  started  down  Big  Sandy  for  Los  Animas, 
stopping  that  night  with  old  Sam  Queer,  near  the 
Indian  battle  ground.  The  old  man,  I  think,  was 
really  the  queerest  person  I  ever  saw.  He  wore 
his  coat  buttoned  up  the  back,  and  gave  as  his 
reason  for  it  that  the  Indians  couldn't  tell  whether 

196 


he  was  going  or  coming.  The  rest  of  his  cloth 
ing  was  worn  in  almost  as  absurd  a  fashion. 

"  Yas,  I  guess  I'm  queer,  an'  prob'bly  ought 
t'  be,  fer  thet's  me  name.  Now  out  there's  me 
wagon.  Ye  see  th'  hin'  wheels  's  afore,  an'  thet's 
'cause  I'm  queer.  As  t'  me  clo'es — wall,  I've 
fotm'  th'  hip  pockets  o'  m'  pants  handiest  fer  m' 
gun  on  this  side.  When  ye  see  me  ye  ought  t' 
know  m'  name  's  Queer,  an'  ye  don't  hafl  ter  ax. 
I  hed  a  neighbor  oncet,  up  in  loway,  b'  th'  name 
o'  Guess,  an'  he  wanted  t'  sell  'is  place  an'  come 
West  'ith  me.  Wall,  he  advertised  'is  place  fer 
sale  in  all  th'  papers,  an'  tol*  how  t'  git  to  'is  house, 
but  didn't  give  no  names.  By'm  bye  a  feller 
comes  'long,  an'  axes  ef  thet  wus  th'  place  thet 
'e  seed  advertised  fer  sale,  an'  wus  tol'  it  wus. 

"  '  How  much  do  ye  ax  fer  it  ?'  he  says. 

"  '  Four  thousan'  dollars,'  says  'e. 

"  '  How  many  acres  have  ye  ?' 

"  '  One  hunderd  an'  sixty,  not  countin'  th' 
hog  lot  an'  tother  side  o'  th'  road  there  by  th'  side 
o'  th'  crick.' 

"'What's  yer  name?' 

" '  Guess.' 

"'  Guess?' 

"  '  Yes,  Guess.' 

"  '  Guess  an'  be  damned !  I  might  guess  a 
life  time  an'  not  guess  right,'  an'  he  drove  off  so 
mad  he  wouldn't  take  th'  place.  Now,  nobody  's 
got  t'  guess  at  my  name.  They  know  it's  Queer, 
an'  I  don't  lose  no  trades  on  thet  'count.  Yer 
fond  o'  music,  ain't  ye  boys?"  he  continued,  as 
he  waved  his  hand  toward  the  organ,  which  oc 
cupied  a  prominent  place  in  one  corner  of  the 

197 


room,  but  without  waiting  for  us  to  reply,  went 
on:  "Wall,  I  am  too,  but  't  depen's  on  'th  kin' 
o'  music  't  is.  Ef  there's  somethin'  in  it,  w'y  I'm 
jis'  charmed.  Ther'  wus  a  feller  back  in  loway 
thet  worked  fer  me  a  long  time,  what  had  th' 
mos'  melojious  voice  I  ever  heared.  He  could 
sing  Pig-o-ee  'ith  all  th'  variations.  When  he'd 
git  tj  goin'  an'  tuned  up  t'  th'  proper  pitch,  th' 
hogs  'd  come  a-squealin'  an'  runnin'  out  o'  th' 
woods  like  they  wus  a  jinin'  in  th'  chorus.  An' 
I  tell  ye  ther'  wus  melody  fer  ye,  an'  no  brass 
ban'  I  ever  heared  cud  make  as  sweet  music  t'  me 
's  thet  wus." 

"  How  wus  thet  ?"  asked  Charley,  somewhat 
surprised  at  the  old  man's  idea  of  music. 

"  Wall,  because  I  owned  th'  hogs,"  said  he, 
as  he  got  up,  stretched  himself  and  sauntered  off 
toward  the  corrals,  leaving  us  to  amuse  our 
selves  as  best  we  could. 

"  Onless  it's  ol'  Bud  up  on  Rock  crick,  I  think 
thet's  the  foolest  man  I  ever  see,"  said  Charley, 
as  we  rode  away  the  next  morning. 

"  W'y,  I  tell  ye,  Kid,  ef  I'd  stay  'roun'  him 
erwhile,  I'd  be  saddlin'  me  hoss  wrong  en'  to, 
an'  ridin'  back'ards.  But  t'night  we'll  stop  at 
Charlie  Malone's  place  below  Los  Animas.  Fine 
place.  Folks  jis'  like  General  Clark  an'  wife; 
allus  glad  t'  see  ye,  an'  two  o'  th'  sweetes'  little 
gals  I  ever  see — Nona  an'  Helen.  I  allus  take 
'em  out  fer  a  hunt  er  t'  fish  ever'  time  I  go  there. 
They  ain't  on'y  'bout  ten  an'  'leven  y'ar  ol',  but 
they  're  perfect  little  ladies.  Know  'em,  do  ye  ?" 

I  told  him  I  had  known  them  nearly  all  their 
lives,  and  was  very  much  in  love  with  them. 

198 


"  Wall/'  he  continued,  "I  ain't  s'prised  much, 
fer  ye  wus  down  here  so  long.  They  jis'  seem 
like  little  sisters  t'  me." 

We  crossed  the  river  at  Los  Animas,  stopping 
long  enough  to  wash  the  dust  from  our  throats 
and  give  the  riders  who  were  loafing  about  the 
public  square  a  chance  to  admire  our  horses. 

The  "barkers"  were  out,  telling  how  easy  it 
was  to  break  the  monte  bank  and  how  much  one 
could  win  if  he  was  lucky,  but  we  passed  on. 
Arkansaw  Bill  had  come  south  ahead  of  us,  and 
had  told  the  boys  what  he  would  do  to  us  if  we 
ever  crossed  the  river  he  was  named  after.  He 
left  town  the  day  before,  however,  which  was 
very  fortunate  for  all  concerned,  and  had  gone 
to  work  for  the  Lazy  S.  outfit  on  the  Picket 
Wire. 

"  As  a  frien',"  said  one  of  the  boys,  when  tell 
ing  us  of  the  threats  Bill  had  made,  "ye'd  better 
keep  yer  shootin'  irons  close  by.  Bill  claims  t' 
be  workin'  fer  th'  Lazy  S.,  but  he's  simply  a 
tool  o'  th'  Lardo  thieves  f'om  near  th'  bad  lan's. 
Ye  know  's  well  's  I  do,  I  guess,  there's  lots  o' 
northe'n  cattle  down  here,  an'  certain  riders  has 
sworn  veng'ance  ag'in  anybody  't  'temp's  t'  move 
'em  back  t'  th'  home  range.  Now,  you  fellers 
ain't  down  her'  fer  nothin',  an'  I  ain't  never  seen 
one  o'  ye  hit  th'  back  trail,  but  I  jis'  thought  I'd 
drap  a  word  so  ye'd  be  on  th'  watch.  I'm  a 
southern  rider  m'self,  an'  I've  seen  things.  Ef 
ye've  never  seen  things,  hev  a  look;  ef  ye  hev 
seen  'em,  look  ag'in." 

We  thanked  him  for  his  information,  turned 
our  horses  back  into  the  trail,  and  were  soon  jog 
ging  along  toward  Malone's. 

199 


"  '  Ef  ye've  never  seen  things,  hev  a  look ;  ef 
ye  hev  seen  'em,  look  ag'in.'  Now,  Kid,  what 
d'  ye  think  o'  thet?  Ain't  Bill  a  fierce  bird?  Ye 
don't  haff  t'  answer,  but  I  tell  ye  this :  Th'  firs' 
steer  thet  Bill  er  any  o'  his  gang  cuts  out  on  me, 
there'll  be  somebody  goin'  to'  th'  great  beyon'." 

"  I  don't  fear  Bill,  Charley,"  I  replied,  "but 
those  Lardos  are  desperate  fellows.  I  know 
them,  and  we  must  watch  them  closely ;  but  here's 
our  sweethearts  coming  up  the  trail,"  and  we 
lifted  the  girls  from  their  ponies  and  carried  them 
back  to  the  ranch  on  our  knees. 

"  How  are  you,  girls  ?     Glad  to  see  us  ?" 

"  Fine.  Yes,  awfully  glad  you've  come.  We 
were  just  talking  about  you  both.  You  will  have 
to  stay  a  week  and  go  hunting  with  us,  and  we 
will  gather  wild  flowers  for  you  and  just  have  a 
fine  time.  Papa  and  mamma  will  be  glad  to  see 
you,  too.  We  know  where  there  are  some  young 
mountain  lions,  and  you  must  help  us  get  them 
for  pets." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Malone,  as  she  came 
out  to  shake  hands  with  us.  "Charley,  you  are 
as  homely  as  ever,  and  Kid,  you  seem  to  have 
grown  older.  Turn  out  your  horses  and  come 
in  and  rest  yourselves." 

We  remained  at  the  Malone  ranch  almost  a 
week,  waiting  for  the  roundup.  We  caught  a 
couple  of  wildcats  and  a  young  antelope  for  the 
girls,  but  no  mountain  lions.  When  riding  out 
one  day  we  ran  across  a  large  band  of  five  and 
six-year-old  steers,  branded  with  skull  and  cross 
bones.  It  did  not  require  very  close  examination 
to  discover  that  they  had  been  burnt  over  other 
brands.  We  reported  this  to  Mr.  Malone,  and 

200 


learned  that  a  man  by  the  name  of  Steel — Lysome 
Steel — claimed  them. 

"Wall,"  said  Charley,  "he  can  lie-some,  er 
lie  a  'hole  lot  ef  'e  wants  to,  but  anyway,  he  lies 
when  'e  says  e'  owns  them  steers.  We're  goin' 
t'  round  'em  up,  make  'em  swim  th'  river  here  an' 
sen'  'em  north,  whar  they  b'long." 

After  sending  word  to  the  foremen  of  the 
roundup  that  we  would  meet  his  outfit  at  Los 
Animas,  we  went  back  near  the  Steel  ranch  and 
found  the  steers  were  being  close  herded  by  a 
Mexican.  We  told  him  we  intended  to  take  the 
steers,  and  to  our  surprise  he  agreed  to  help  us. 
Steel  had  not  paid  him  his  wages,  would  only  give 
him  two  meals  a  day,  and  he  wanted  to  leave  the 
country  and  go  north.  We  relieved  him,  telling 
him  to  go  back  to  the  ranch  that  night,  ride  his 
own  horse  the  next  day,  cross  the  river  at  Los 
Animas,  and  we  would  have  the  cattle  on  the 
other  side  ready  for  him  to  start  north.  But  we 
did  not  get  them  across  that  night.  The  river 
was  running  bank  full,  and  although  we  got  them 
started  several  times,  they  would  "mill"  and  turn 
back  on  us.  I  drowned  one  of  my  horses,  and 
Charley  came  nearly  going  down  himself.  All 
night  long  we  yelled  and  worked  with  those  cat 
tle.  We  thought  of  taking  them  to  the  bridge, 
but  a  wild  steer  fears  a  bridge  worse  than  water ; 
and  besides,  the  whole  town  would  have  known 
what  we  were  doing.  The  next  morning  we  hired 
a  couple  of  riders  to  assist  us,  and  after  numerous 
attempts  finally  got  them  over.  By  noon  the 
Mexican  was  pushing  them  out  over  Homestead 
bottom  toward  the  head  of  the  Beaver,  where  we 
had  told  him  to  leave  them.  We  then  started  out 

201 


and  met  the  roundup  a  day  earlier  than  we  ex 
pected.  We  threw  in  all  the  skull  and  cross  bone 
steers  we  found,  as  well  as  all  other  cattle  that 
belonged  north.  At  night  our  cattle  would  be 
cut  out  and  turned  back  down  the  river.  We 
complained  to  the  foreman,  and  he  told  us  the 
only  way  we  could  prevent  it  was  to  stand  night 
herd  ourselves.  This  we  did  for  a  month,  Char 
ley  staying  out  with  the  regular  night  men  the 
first  half  of  the  night,  and  I  the  other  half.  Still 
we  lost  a  good  many.  They  frequently  stam 
peded  for  apparently  no  reason,  but  it  was  evi 
dent  that  a  majority  of  the  riders  were  in  sym 
pathy  with  the  rustlers.  Numerous  bets  were  of 
fered  that  we  would  not  get  out  of  the  country  with 
steers  enough  to  pay  our  wages,  but  when  a  bunch 
of  a  dozen  northern  riders  appeared  who  had  not 
been  announced,  cut  the  roundup  and  drove 
away  about  a  thousand  big  beeves  we  had  gath 
ered,  a  majority  of  the  men  who  had  been  attend 
ing  to  the  cattle  became  abusive,  and  tried  every 
way  possible  to  start  a  fight.  But  no  such 
thoughts  entered  our  heads;  we  had  no  idea  of 
being  anything  but  agreeable.  Our  principal  rea 
son  for  this  was  that  about  a  dozen  of  the  riders 
were  fellows  who  had  come  from  the  bad  lands 
with  records.  Then,  too,  we  had  been  sent  there 
to  bring  back  certain  brands  of  cattle,  and  were 
gathering  only  what  belonged  to  the  association 
we  represented.  The  first  roundup  was  finished, 
but  the  last  had  not  been  so  successful,  and  we 
felt  discouraged.  When  the  second  started,  as 
sistance  had  been  sent  us,  and  although  we  worked 
farther  south  and  were  among  more  desperate 
characters,  we  returned  to  Los  Animas  with  a 
202 


nice  herd.  Here  we  waited  for  a  few  days  for  our 
wagon  to  come  down  and  bring  us  fresh  horses, 
and  also  instructions  for  the  next  trip.  Charley 
and  I,  with  other  northern  riders,  had  thrown 
our  cattle  across  the  river  and  gone  into  camp 
with  the  J.  B.  outfit  from  the  Platte.  We  went 
over  to  town  nearly  every  day  to  get  our  mail. 
On  one  of  these  trips  I  was  struck  on  the  head 
with  some  heavy  instrument  and  stabbed  in  the 
back.  Charley  was  standing  at  the  general  de 
livery  window,  only  a  few  feet  from  me,  and  as 
he  turned  a  bullet  cut  off  the  tip  of  his  left 
ear.  We  had  not  noticed  the  crowd  behind  us, 
and  when  questioned  no  one  knew  who  had  as 
saulted  us.  I  was  carried  across  the  street  to  a 
doctor's  office,  my  wounds  dressed,  a  carriage 
ordered,  and  I  was  taken  to  the  Malone  ranch. 
The  doctor  accompanied  us,  and  when  Mrs.  Ma- 
lone  asked  as  to  my  condition,  he  replied : 

"  The  wound  in  the  back  is  very  serious ;  the 
knife  passed  through  the  shoulder  blade  and 
went  deeper  than  I  thought  it  had.  Follow  the 
instructions  I  have  left  and  I  will  call  again 


203 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Charley  remained  with  me  a  couple  of  days, 
then  went  to  Los  Animas  and  wrote  a  letter  to 
Blue  Eye,  hired  a  colored  boy  to  carry  it  to 
Rock  creek,  and  then  started  south  with  the 
roundup.  The  boy  left  the  trail  for  a  short  cut 
across  the  country,  lost  his  way,  and  after  wan 
dering  about  in  the  sand  hills  several  days, 
finally  reached  the  general's  ranch. 

"  Am  dis  heah  Gin'ral  Clahk's  ranch  ?"  said 
he,  as  he  dismounted,  and  stood  leaning  over 
the  wire  fence  looking  at  Blue  Eye  and  Me-Me, 
who  happened  to  be  out  in  the  front  yard. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Am  de  Gin'ral  to  home?" 

"  Yes.    Would  you  like  to  see  him?" 

"Oh,  I  guess  I  ain't  spec'ly  pa'tic'lar  'bout 
'im." 

"Why  did  you  ask,  then?" 

"Well'  I  thought  maybe  he  might  want  t' 
pond'rate  wiv  me  some.  I  come  on  urgenticly 
business." 

"  Very  urgent  business  ?" 

"Yassum.  An'  I  reckon  it  r'quires  dirastic 
movements  on  de  paht  o'  one  o'  you  gals.  Am 
one  o'  youse  named  Blue  Eye?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Well,  I  jis'  reckon  yo've  got  a  very  prog- 
nosticatin'  lettah  heah,  which  I  fetched  ober." 

"A  letter  for  me?  Who  from?  Give  it  to 
me,  quick." 

204 


"  Am  you  pos'tively  shoah  yo'  name  am  Blue 
Eye?" 

"Yes.     Give  me  the  letter.     Who  sent  it?" 

"Tomatah  Chahlie  an'  I  toted  it  f'om  Los 
Animas.  What  fer  you  git  so  excited?  You 
heah  'bout  de  shootin'  an'  stabbin'  wif  knives? 
Yo'  peah  to  be  gittin'  mighty  awful  pow'ful 
nervous." 

"  Who's  shot?  Who  has  been  stabbed.  Give 
me  the  letter,  quick." 

"  Oh,  don't  git  rambunkshus.  Spect  he's  sho' 
'nuff  dead,  fo'  Ise  bin  los'  three  days,  an'  on  de 
trail  fo'  moah  days." 

"Who's  dead— Charley?" 

"  No,  dat  fellah  w'at  come  down  dar  wiv 
'im." 

"  The  Kid !    Has  he  been  shot?" 

"  Worser  as  dat.  Cut  plum  t'  pieces  f'om 
heah  t'  heah,"  and  he  drew  his  hand  across  his 
body  from  shoulder  to  hip. 

Blue  Eye  clutched  at  her  hair  as  she  fell 
backward,  but  the  general,  who  had  just  come 
out,  caught  her  and  eased  her  to  the  ground. 

"  What  does  this  mean — what  can  be  the  mat 
ter?" 

"  Papa,  that  boy  has  a  letter  for  Blue  Eye. 
Make  him  give  it  up,  quick,"  said  Me-Me. 

"  Have  you  a  letter  for  this  girl  ?" 

"  Got  one  heah  somewhar,  suh ;  but  ain't 
tizactly  shore  which  pocket  I  put  it  in,  suh." 

"Well,  I'll  soon  find  out,"  and  the  general 
caught  the  boy  by  the  arm  and  commenced  to 
turn  his  pockets  inside  out. 

205 


"  Why  did  you  keep  the  girl  in  suspense,  you 
little  scoundrel?  I  have  a  notion  to  cuff  your 
ears." 

"  It's  ver'  impo't'nt  dat  dis  heah  lettah  mus' 
done  be  deliv'd  to  de  right  pussen,  suh,  an' — " 

But  the  general  had  the  letter  and  was  kneel 
ing  beside  Blue  Eye,  whose  head  was  resting  in 
Me-Me's  lap. 

"  Oh,  read  it  to  me,  quick,  general ;  quick.  The 
suspense  will  kill  me." 

"  Be  a  brave  girl,  then,  and  I  will  read  it." 

" '  Dear  Miss  Blue  Eye :  I  speckt  ye'd  bet 
ter  come  down  an'  help  nuss  th'  Kid.  Pore 
boy!  He's  stabbed  in  th'  back,  an'  'is  skull's 
crushed  in  on  th'  side  uv  his  head.  The  doctor 
says  as  how  it  '11  be  nine  days  afore  he  knows 
fer  shore  he'll  live  er  not.  This  is  Sunday.  I 
don't  know  ther  date,  but  ye'd  better  come  quick, 
fer  he'll  want  ter  see  ye.  I  jis'  found  out  thet 
it  wus  Arkansaw  Bill  what  stabbed  'im,  an'  I'm 
goin'  south  on  'is  trail.  Ye  needn't  hurry  too 
much,  fer  he's  at  th'  Malone  ranch,  an'  our  sweet 
hearts  air  takin'  kere  uv  'im.  I  hope  he'll  live 
till  ye  see  'im,  er  longer.  I  send  this  an'  me 
luv  to  all  uv  ye  by  Nigger  Mose,  the  only  boy 
I  kin  hire  ter  go.  Charley/  " 

"  Mamma,"  said  the  general,  after  he  read 
the  letter  to  his  wife,  "you  must  help  us  get 
ready,  for  we  are  going  down  to  see  the  Kid. 
But  somehow  I  dread  to  go,  for  fear  we  may 
not  get  there  in  time  to  do  him  any  good.  You 
all  wonder  how  it  happened?  Well,  I  can  tell 
you.  Some  cowardly  villain  has  sneaked  up  be 
hind  him,  struck  him  over  the  head  with  a  re 
volver,  and  stabbed  him  in  the  back  with  a  dirk 

206 


knife.  It  might  have  been  Arkansaw  Bill,  or 
it  might  have  been  some  one  else.  Hurry,  now; 
have  the  cook  put  us  up  lunch  enough  for  three, 
for  both  the  girls  are  going  with  me." 

The  look  on  Blue  Eye's  face  had  now  changed 
to  one  of  determination.  She  assisted  in  getting 
things  together,  and  when  the  horses  were 
brought  out  of  the  corral,  thanked  old  Bud  for  his 
assistance  in  saddling  and  packing  her  horses. 

"  We  ought  to  reach  there  sometime  tomorrow 
evening,"  said  the  general  to  his  wife,  as  they 
rode  away.  "I  will  send  a  message  back  at  once, 
that  you  may  know  we  arrived  safely,  and  also 
how  the  Kid  is." 

It  was  quite  dark  when  they  reached  the 
Beaver,  where  they  found  water  and  went  into 
camp  for  the  night.  They  ate  their  lunch,  rolled 
out  their  beds  and  the  girls  retired ;  but  the  gen 
eral  lighted  a  cigar  and  walked  back  and  forth 
along  the  bank  of  the  creek,  watching  the  horses. 

"  Why  don't  you  lie  down,  papa  ?  We  fixed 
your  bed  for  you,  and  you  ought  to  get  some 
sleep." 

"  I'm  not  sleepy,  so  I'll  stay  up  and  look  after 
the  horses.  They  seem  afraid,  and  don't  feed 
well  at  all.  There!  Hear  that  one  snort.  I'll 
take  the  Winchester  and  go  out  and  see  what's 
the  matter."  He  returned  in  a  few  moments, 
leading  the  pack  horses,  and  as  he  knelt  beside 
the  girls,  said : 

"  Come,  we  must  get  out  of  here.  We  are 
camped  within  a  few  rods  of  an  Indian  village, 
and  they  seem  to  have  taken  possession  of  the 
creek.  There  appears  to  be  about  fifty  of  them, 

207 


and  to  avoid  trouble  we  will  move  out  onto  the 
divide." 

The  horses  were  gathered  up  as  quietly  as 
possible  and  thrown  into  the  dim  trail  that  led 
south,  and  they  were  soon  climbing  the  little 
rise  about  a  mile  from  the  creek.  The  general 
was  riding  in  the  lead,  followed  by  the  pack  and 
extra  saddle  horses,  with  the  girls  bringing  up 
the  rear. 

"  Glad  w*  got  out  of  there,  general,"  said 
Blue  Eye. 

"  Yes,  but  you  had  better  keep  quiet  awhile 
yet;  those  Indian  may  have  pickets  stationed  out 
here  to  guard  the  trail." 

Just  then  the  horses  stampeded;  the  girls 
rushed  up  and  saw  that  someone  had  jerked  the 
general  from  his  horse.  They  gave  a  shriek,  but 
what  to  do  they  did  not  know.  Backward  and 
forward  the  men  swayed,  fighting  as  hard  as  they 
could,  neither  having  spoken  a  word.  Blue  Eye 
grasped  her  sixshooter,  but  soon  replaced  it  in 
her  belt,  fearing  if  she  fired  she  would  hit  the 
general. 

"  Stop !"  cried  the  general.  "If  you  make  a 
move  to  strike  me  again  I  will  blow  your  brains 
out.  Who  are  you,  anyway?" 

"  Me  big  brave  White  Cloud.  Damn  cow 
ard  pale  face.  Scalp  hang  White  Cloud's  belt." 

They  stood  glaring  at  each  other  for  a 
moment  through  the  darkness.  White  Cloud  then 
made  a  lunge  at  the  general,  but  fell  face  down 
in  the  grass.  The  general  blew  the  smoke  from 
his  sixshooter,  struck  a  match,  bent  over  his 
dead  foe,  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  then,  turn 
ing  to  the  girls,  said: 

208 


"  I'm  sorry  I  had  to  do  it,  but  I  could  not 
get  out  of  it  any  other  way.  He  has  stabbed 
me  twice,  and  the  only  wonder  is  he  did  not 
drive  that  long  knife  blade  clear  through  me. 
Let's  get  our  horses  and  ride  on.  There  may 
be  others  lurking  about  here,  and  I  hardly  think 
I  could  resist  another  attack  like  that." 

The  horses  were  quickly  rounded  up,  for  they 
had  not  gone  far,  and,  taking  positions  as  they 
were  when  the  Indian  attacked  them,  left  the  trail 
and  started  southwest.  After-  riding  a  few  miles 
they  stopped,  and  the  girls  bound  the  general's 
hand  and  arm. 

"Are  you  hurt  much?"  they  asked,  as  they 
dismounted  and  commenced  making  bandages  of 
their  handkerchiefs. 

"  No ;  but  my  flesh  creeps  when  I  think  of 
that  big  Indian  and  that  long  bladed  dirk.  He 
struck  me  on  the  head  with  something,  and  before 
I  recovered,  jerked  me  off  my  horse.  I'm  sorry 
I  had  to  kill  him.  There,  see  that !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Blue  Eye,  "and  I  know  what  it 
means.  Look!  See  this  one  here.  They  are 
signal  fires.  The  Indians  at  camp  know  some 
thing  has  happened,  and  all  the  guards  must  go 
in  and  report.  White  Cloud,  as  he  called  him 
self,  won't  show  up,  and  when  they  find  him  we 
had  better  be  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Kit  Carson." 

"  Just  midnight,"  said  the  general.  "We  will 
continue  on  southwest,  and  either  strike  the  rail 
road  or  the  trail  from  the  head  of  the  Republican. 
Either  will  lead  us  to  Kit  Carson.  We  will  leave 
our  pack  horses  there,  and  the  ride  we  will  make 
down  Big  Sandy  will  be  a  record  breaker.  We 

209 


will  only  take  the  two  horses  from  there  we 
haven't  ridden  yet.  Not  a  word,  now,  and  keep 
as  close  to  me  as  you  can." 


210 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

It  was  just  breaking  day  when  they  rode  up 
to  the  section  house  at  old  Tony's  and  asked  for 
breakfast. 

"  An'  faith,  I  b'lave  it's  gypsies  they  air,"  said 
Mrs.  Tony,  as  she  watched  the  girls  wash  the 
alkali  dust  from  their  faces  and  braid  up  their 
hair.  "An'  travelin'  wid  me  ould  fri'nd.  Th'  top 
o'  th'  mornin'  to  ye,  gin'ral,  fer  it's  a  foine  man 
ye  air,  an'  th'  bist  Injun  foighter  this  side  o' 
Dakoty.  But  phat's  th'  matther  ?  Ye  musht  'ave 
had  a  bad  shpell  o'  th'  nose  blade,  fer  yer 
shmeared  from  head  to  fut." 

"  Nothing  serious  at  all,  Mrs.  Tony.  Have 
our  breakfast  set  out  as  soon  as  you  can,  for  we 
want  to  make  Los  Animas  today,"  and  he  joined 
the  girls  in  the  wash  room.  Mrs.  Tony  followed 
and  kept  on  talking. 

"  Ye  same  t'  be  in  a  hurry.  Phat's  th'  matther? 
Air  ye  'lopin'  wid  th'  gairls  ye  hov  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  my  girls,  so  I  hardly 
think  anyone  will  attempt  to  stop  us." 

"  Gwan,  now.  Ye're  not  aven  marrit,"  and 
she  gave  him  a  poke  in  the  ribs  with  her  thumb, 
threw  her  apron  over  her  shoulder  and  went  out 
to  hurry  up  the  cook. 

Breakfast  was  called,  and  she  took  her  usual 
place  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  told  them  of 
a  young  "blaggard  uv  a  shnake  charmer  who'd 
shpi'lt  th'  repetation  uv  her  hotel." 

211 


"  But  he's  got  worse  'an  a  shnake  boite  this 
time.  It's  dead  we  heared  he  is.  Thin  we 
heared  ag'in  it  was  on'y  gangrene  (God  be 
praised  fer  the  color)  set  in  an'  he  may  live." 

"When  did  you  hear  from  the  Kid?"  asked 
the  general,  and  the  girls  stopped  eating  and 
held  their  breath,  waiting  for  the  answer. 

"  Yishterday." 

"How  was  he?" 

"  Twas  alive  he  was  yit,  but  moighty  low. 
He's  aither  did  be  this  toime  er  he's  a-livin'  yit, 
but  I  can't  tell  fer  th'  loife  uv  me  which  wan 
it  is." 

The  girls  got  up  and  left  the  table  and  when 
the  general  came  out,  were  wiping  their  eyes. 

The  extra  horses  had  been  turned  into  the 
pasture  just  south  of  town,  and  all  was  ready  for 
the  long  ride  down  the  Big  Sandy. 

"  Saddle  Beaut  for  me,  and  Roany  for  Blue 
Eye,"  said  Me-Me. 

They  bade  Mrs.  Tony  good-bye  and  were 
soon  headed  down  the  river,  each  leading  an  extra 
horse.  It  was  considered  a  hard  day's  ride  to 
old  man  Queer's  ranch,  but  they  reached  there 
by  noon,  having  changed  horses  once.  Would 
their  horses  hold  out?  Could  they  themselves 
stand  the  ride?  Their  faces  showed  plainly  the 
anxiety  they  felt,  but  the  saddles  were  quickly 
changed  and  they  started  on. 

"Our  sweethearts  are  taking  care  of  him," 
said  Blue  Eye,  talking  aloud  to  herself. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  the  Kid  has  a  swjeet- 
heart  down  here,  if  she  will  only  take  good  care 
of  him,"  said  Me-Me,  and  Blue  Eye  looked  up 
in  surprise. 

212 


"  I  didn't  intend  you  should  hear  that." 

"  I  did,  though,"  and  both  rode  on  in  silence 
until  the  general  halted  to  change  horses  again. 

When  they  started  on,  Blue  Eye  continued : 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you,  Me-Me,  you  are  younger 
than  I,  and  may  not  take  matters  as  seriously, 
but  I'll  tell  you,  nothing  will  make  me  cease 
loving  that  man — neither  one  sweetheart  nor  a 
dozen,  for  he  has  been  too  kind  to  me.  I  shan't 
say  a  word  to  him  about  it  till  he  is  strong,  but 
we  will  have  it  out  then." 

"  You  won't  quarrel,  I  just  know  you  won't. 
You  love  each  other  too  well  for  that." 

"  I  hope  we  won't  quarrel,  too ;  but  the  sus 
pense  must  end.  The  strain  is  killing  me." 

"  He  has  told  you  he  loved  you,  hasn't  he  ?" 

"  Yes,  many  times ;  but  he  has  referred  so 
often  to  his  little  sweetheart  down  on  the  Arkan 
sas  that  I  have  not  given  him  an  answer  yet." 

"  Has  he  asked  you  to  marry  him  ?" 

"  Y-e-s,  he  has." 

"Why  didn't  you  accept  him  then?" 

"  Well,  because—" 

"What?" 

"  As  I  have  told  you,  the  marriage  vow  is  a 
solemn  one.  You  remember  what  old  Uncle 
Zach  said  to  your  father  about  the  one  man  and 
the  one  woman,  the  night  before  he  died,  don'^ 
you?" 

"  I  can't  recall  it  now." 

" '  When  the  one  man  loves  the  one  woman, 
and  the  one  woman  loves  the  one  man,  the  an 
gels  leave  heaven  and  come  and  sit  in  that  home 
and  sing  for  joy.'  " 

"  'Twould  be  that  way  with  you  and  the  Kid." 

213 


"  It  would  be  on  my  part,  but  do  you  think 
I  would  receive  all  his  love?" 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  I  wish  I  did ;  but  those  sweethearts  haunt 
me.  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  I  would  like  to — " 

"Let's  change  horses  again,"  said  the  gen 
eral,  "and  get  a  drink  here  at  the  bend  of  the 
river." 

But  the  look  on  their  faces  startled  him. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  You  mustn't  give 
up  now.  It's  three  o'clock,  and  we  should  be 
there  by  seven." 

"Oh,  we  have  plenty  of  strength  left;  we 
were  just  talking  about  the  Kid,  and  our  feelings 
got  the  start  of  us,"  and  as  they  turned  their 
faces  the  general  brushed  the  tears  from  his 
own  eyes. 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  him,  too,  and  never 
before  have  I  felt  such  an  anxiety  for  anyone. 
I  would  to  God — "  Here  he  stopped,  for  his 
throat  seemed  to  fill  up  so  he  could  not  talk. 

"  I'll  ride  Roany  on  in,"  said  Blue  Eye.  "He 
is  so  big  and  strong  and  is  carrying  me  so  easily. 
I  wonder  if  that  isn't  the  Malone  ranch  over 
there.  Take  the  glasses  and  look.  I  believe 
it  is,  but  here  comes  a  fellow  we  can  ask." 

"  Good  evening,"  said  the  general,  as  he 
raised  his  hat  to  the  rider.  "Can  you  tell  us 
where  the  Malone  ranch  is?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Follow  the  trail  and  cross  the 
river  at  Los  Animas;  then  turn  down  the  river 
on  the  old  government  trail — first  house  to  the 
right  after  you  leave  town." 

"  Is  that  the  place  where  we  see  those  trees  ?" 
214 


"  No.  Malone's  place  is  a  little  this  side  of 
there." 

"How  far  from  here?" 

"  About  thirty  miles." 

"  Do  you  reside  in  that  locality  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  just  on  this  side  of  the  river,  on 
Homestead  bottom.  My  mother  and  sister  live 
with  me." 

"  Do  you  know  Tomato  Charley  and  the 
Kid?" 

"  Quite  well.  I  presume  the  Kid  is  dead  by 
this  time,  for  the  doctor  had  about  given  him 
up  day  before  yesterday.  I  don't  know  where 
Charley  is,  but  it  was  reported  that  the  Lardo 
gang  had  got  him,  too.  I  told  them  to  get  back 
north  of  the  river  a  month  ago,  but  they  didn't 
do  it." 

"  Were  they  taking  anyone's  cattle  but  their 
own?" 

"  No,  that's  the  trouble.  There  is  the  damned 
est  gang — beg  pardon,  ladies — of  rustlers  just 
south  of  the  river  here  that  ever  operated  in  any 
country.  It  seems  to  be  a  place  where  thieves 
and  devils  prosper  and  honest  men  suffer.  Good 
day." 

He  tipped  his  hat,  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and 
was  gone. 

"  An  honest,  manly  fellow,  and  he  looks  some 
like  old  Uncle  Zach,"  said  the  general,  as  they 
started  on. 

Their  horses  were  getting  tired,  but  they 
urged  them  into  a  gallop. 

"  Don't  give  up,  Roany,"  said  Blue  Eye,  as 
she  patted  the  great  horse  on  the  neck. 

215 


They  reached  the  river,  and  as  they  crossed 
the  bridge  they  met  Tomato  Charley.  By  this 
time  their  horses  were  so  tired  they  could  scarcely 
walk. 

"How's  the  Kid,  Charley?"  asked  the  gen- 
eral,  as  soon  as  he  got  within  hearing. 

"  Bin  mighty  low,  but  he's  better  now.  Here, 
Blue  Eye,  ye'll  trade  hosses  'ith  me,  an'  go  on, 
fer  he  wants  t'  see  ye.  I  jis'  come  f'om  there,  anr 
he  wus  a-wonderin'  why  ye  didn't  come.  Pore 
ol*  Roany;  ye  shan't  ride  'im  no  furder  t'day,  fer 
I'll  put  yer  saddle  on  Rover.  There,  now;  we'll 
be  down  's  soon  's  I  kin  git  some  fresh  hosses 
fer  Me-Me  an'  th'  gen'ral." 

Blue  Eye  was  gone  and  almost  out  of  sight 
before  Charley  finished  talking. 

"  Come,  Rover,"  she  would  say  to  Charley's 
horse,  and  Rover  would  increase  his  speed  as 
though  he  knew  how  anxious  the  girl  was  to  get 
to  the  ranch. 

"  Come,  Rover,  come !  You  are  almost  as 
great  a  horse  as  Roany.  It  makes  the  last  part 
of  the  ride  easier  to  go  at  this  gait.  He  wants  to 
see  me,  too.  Been  mighty  low.  I  wonder  where 
his  sweethearts  are  ?  But  I  will  soon  know.  Come, 
Rover.  Hurry !  Oh,  the  last  mile !  How  long  it 
seems !  Come,  Rover,  faster !" 

She  did  not  slow  up  at  the  gate,  but  slipped 
her  foot  from  the  stirrup,  sprang  from  the  horse, 
and  started  on  a  run  up  the  gravel  path  toward 
the  house.  Mrs.  Malone  saw  her  coming, 
opened  the  door,  threw  her  arms  about  her,  and 
kissed  her. 

"  Come  in,  Blue  Eye ;  we  need  no  introduc 
tion.  What  a  dear,  good  girl  you  are  to  come 

216 


away  down  here.  Don't  cry  like  that,  for  he's 
better  now.  Come,  we  will  look  in.  If  he's 
asleep  we  must  not  wake  him." 

Blue  Eye  was  standing  beside  the  bed  when 
I  awoke,  and  when  I  spoke  to  her  she  placed 
her  cheek  against  mine  and  commenced  to  cry 
aloud.  Mrs.  Malone  came  back  into  the  room, 
stood  wiping  her  eyes,  and,  if  I  remember  right, 
brushed  a  few  tears  off  my  own  cheeks. 

"Come,  Blue  Eye,"  said  Mrs.  Malone,  "we 
must  go  out  into  the  other  room." 

"  Not  now,  please.  Leave  me  with  the  Kid 
for  a  few  moments,  for  I  want  to  ask  him  some 
thing,"  and  she  at  once  became  calm,  took  up 
the  towel  and  a  pan  of  water  and  bathed  my 
face. 

"Will  you  tell  me  something,  Kid?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  I.  "What  do  you  want  to 
know?" 

"  Well,  I  thought  I  would  not  ask  you  right 
away,  but  I  just  can't  help  it." 

She  paused,  walked  across  the  room  and  stood 
for  a  few  moments  looking  down  toward  the 
river.  Nona  and  Helen  came  in,  but  Blue  Eye 
did  not  see  them,  and  they  left  the  room  as 
quietly  as  they  came. 

"Well,  Kid,  it's  this,"  and  she  came  back, 
sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed  and  took  one 
of  my  hands  in  her  own.  "I  ought  not  to  be  so 
curious,  but  I  must  know  something.  You  will 
probably  call  me  silly,  but  I  can't  help  that.  I 
want  to  know  where  those  sweethearts  are  you 
have  talked  so  much  about." 

"Is  that  all,  Blue  Eye?" 
217 


"  Yes.  I  don't  want  to  make  a  show  of  my 
self  in  their  presence,  and  I  think  I  have  a  right 
to  know  more  than  that,  too.  You  have  asked 
me  to  be  your  wife,  and  my  answer  is  ready 
when  you  have  explained  matters.  The  river 
here  runs  wide  and  deep.  I  have  come  to  help 
nurse  you,  because  you  made  me  love  you,  but 
if  there  are  other  girls  dearer  to  you  than  I,  let 
me  stay  with  you  until  you  are  well  and  strong, 
then  I  will  go." 

She  arose,  placed  her  hands  on  her  head  and 
walked  back  to  the  window.  I  called  her  and 
she  returned  and  sat  down  beside  me. 

"  Blue  Eye,  I  will  never  tease  you  again.  It 
was  cruel  of  me,  and  I  can  only  ask  forgiveness." 

The  little  girls  came  in,  and  after  I  had  in 
troduced  them,  said:  "These  are  my  sweethearts, 
the  girls  that  have  caused  you  all  the  worry.  Can 
you  blame  me  for  loving  them?" 

"  No,  and  they  shall  be  my  sweethearts,  too," 
and  she  smothered  them  both  with  kisses. 


218 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  I  never  saw  you  look  happier,  Blue  Eye," 
said  the  general,  as  he  rode  up,  for  she  had  gone 
out  to  the  gate  to  meet  him. 

"  I  am  happy.  You  and  Mrs.  Clark  are  like 
parents  to  me,  and  Mrs.  Malone  is  just  as  kind 
and  nice  as  she  can  be.  Kid  is  better,  and  the 
two  sweethearts  he  has  teased  me  so  much  about 
are  the  dearest  little  girls  you  ever  saw.  Here 
they  come,  now." 

"  Their  age  has  something  to  do  with  it 
then  ?"  said  the  general,  laughing. 

"  With  me,  yes,  and  I  am  the  happiest  girl 
in  the  world.  Why,  I  just  want  to  give  all  my 
friends  a  good  hug." 

"  You  can  begin  with  me,  if  you  like." 

"  I  will,  then,"  and  she  threw  her  arms  about 
the  general's  neck  and  kissed  him. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  everything  would  come 
out  all  right?  I  just  knew  it  would,"  said 
Me-Me,  as  they  walked  along  up  the  gravel  path 
toward  the  house. 

"  Yes,  you  told  me  that,  but  you  didn't  know. 
What  a  fool  I  was,"  she  said  to  herself,  but 
stopped  meditating  and  introduced  the  people  who 
had  been  so  kind  to  her,  to  the  general  and  his 
daughter. 

"  Well,  Kid,"  said  the  general,  as  he  clasped 
my  hand,  "we  are  all  sharing  Blue  Eye's  happi 
ness.  Pleased  as  we  are  to  find  you  so  much 
improved  after  having  been  told  so  often  that 

219 


you  were  dead  or  dying,  would  have  been  joy 
enough  for  one  day,  but  a  look  at  Blue  Eye's 
face  makes  us  forget  that  we  worried  about  you 
at  all." 

"  He  ain't  got  in  yit,"  said  Tomato  Charley,  as 
he  came  in  and  seated  himself  in  the  big  rocking 
chair  near  the  door. 

"Who  is  that,  Charley?"  asked  Nona,  as 
she  climbed  upon  his  knee. 

"  W'y,  I  wus  thinkin'  uv  Flyin'  Barney.  It 
wus  at  th'  races  't  Los  Animas,  th'  day  I  started 
Nigger  Mose  up  t'  Rock  crick.  I  wus  waitin' 
fer  th'  roundup  wagon  t'  come  'cross  th'  river, 
an'  feelin'  kind  o'  blue,  but  purty  soon  th'  boys 
commenced  t'  come  in,  an'  a  feller  goes  out  'n  th' 
square,  gits  on  a  box  an'  begins  to  holler :  'Right 
this  way,  ge'men,  fer  yer  pool  tickets.  Match  race 
fer  a  thousan'  a  side.  Single  heat.  Three-quar 
ters  uv  a  mile,  'tween  Kaintucky  Whip  an'  Flyin' 
Barney.  Come  up  an'  bet  on  th'  race,  fer  it's 
easy  money.  The  odds  're  five  t'  one  on  Kain 
tucky  Whip.  Come  up  an'  git  yer  tickets.  It'll 
be  a  dead  square  race.'  Wall,  I  wusn't  goin'  t' 
bet,  fer  I  felt  some  lonesome  anyway,  but  some 
o'  th'  boys  put  up  the'r  money  an'  then  come 
t'  me.  'Here,  put  up,  Charley,'  says  one  uv  'em. 
'We  want  'nother  hunderd  t'  make  'er  a  thousan', 
Kaintucky  Whip  might  fall  down  er  bolt,  an' 
we  '11  make  five  thousan',  an'  paint  th'  ol'  town 
all  kin's  o'  red.'  Well,  I  put  up  me  money,  an' 
we  got  th'  tickets,  an'  w'en  th'  suckers  'ad  all  bit 
good  an'  plenty,  th'  bosses  wus  brought  down 
this  way  to'ards  your  house  an'  run  back  t'  town." 

"Did  you  win,  Charley?" 

220 


"  No.  Thet  wus  nine  days  ago,  an'  Fly  in* 
Barney  ain't  got  in  yit.  But  I  got  me  money 
back  f'om  th'  ge'men  'at  done  th'  hollerin',  all 
right,  an'  'ith  purty  good  inter'st,  too." 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ?  Did  you  take  it  away 
from  him  ?" 

"No.  Wen  I  got  back  yisterday  f'om  th' 
Picket  Wire  range,  I  made  a  race  'ith  'im  fer 
two  hunderd  a  side,  an'  wus  t'  run  me  Rover  hoss. 
He  'lowed  me  t'  pick  th'  track,  an'  name  th'  dis 
tance,  an'  he  wus  t'  beat  me  ever'  jump  in  th' 
road.  Wall,  I  knowed  'is  little  cayuse  wus  afeared 
o'  water,  so  I  marked  out  th'  track  right  'cross 
th'  river,  jis'  b'low  th'  bridge,  an'  over  Homestead 
bottom  t'  th'  head  o'  Cat  crick,  'bout  seventeen 
mile.  He  seen  I  had  'im,  an*  as  th'  money  wus 
up,  I  jis'  raked  it  in." 

"  Goodie,  an'  you  beat  him  ?" 

"We  never  run  th'  race.  He  knowed  he 
couldn't  make  'is  hoss  swim  th'  river,  an*  w'en 
'e  r'fused  t'  start,  th'  stakeholder  give  me  th' 
money.  Th'  feller  thet  runs  race  hosses  fer  a 
livin'  ain't  no  smarter'n  ordinary  folks;  it's  th' 
sucker  thet  bets  agin  'im  thet's  a-gettin'  fooler 
all  th'  time.  But  t'  think  we  all  bet  on  Flyin' 
Barney,  an'  he  couldn't  go  fast  'nough  t'  keep 
warm  on  a  hot  day." 

"Where  is  Arkansaw  Bill,"  asked  the  gen 
eral,  as  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  took  a  chair  on 
the  other  side  of  the  door. 

"  He's  dead,  an'  there'll  never  be  no  flowers 
on  th'  grave  w'at  hoi's  'is  dirty  carc'ss.  He  wus 
uv  respec'ful  parents,  but  'is  las'  years  wus  spent 
in  profl'gacy  an'  shame,  an'  he  died  d'serted,  like 
a  leper.  No  one  ans'ered  'is  cry  fer  help,  an'  no 

221 


kin'  han'  wus  outstretched  t'  comfort  'im.  No 
tears,  no  flowers,  ner  no  mourners.  He  wus 
damned  afore  'e  died,  an*  'is  thievin'  soul  only 
made  one  little  spark  in  hell.  A  murd'rer  an'  a 
thief.  Killed  three  men,  stabbed  th'  Kid  'in  thj 
back,  an'  has  stole  cattle  'nough  t'  run  a  slaugh 
ter  house  a  year.  No,  I  didn't  kill  'im,  but  I 
wus  a-follerin'  'im  fer  thet  purpose.  He  wus 
a-cuttin'  a  trail  herd  an'  throwin'  back  some 
northern  steers,  an'  Johnny  Johnson  called  'im 
down.  Ye  know  Johnny;  he  used  t'  work  up  on 
our  range.  Wall,  Bill  pulls  'is  gun  an'  starts  t' 
run  one  uv  'is  bluffs,  but  Johnny  puts  three  holes 
inter  Bill's  stummick  'fore  'e  hed  time  t'  back  up. 
But  w'at  makes  me  th'  maddest  uv  all  is,  t'  think 
I've  bin  eatin'  an'  sleepin'  with  'im  all  these  y'ars, 
an'  him  a-stealin'  cattle  all  th'  time.  Jis'  couldn't 
be  hones'.  I  'spect  he's  stole  an'  sol'  a  thousan' 
dollars'  worth  o'  cattle  fer  'is  share  a  y'ar,  fer 
eight  or  ten  y'ars,  but  't  all  went  fer  gamblin', 
drinkin'  an'  wimmen.  Thar's  th'  whole  story. 
He  died  a  pauper,  an'  's  buried  'th  out  a  coffin  in 
a  unknown  grave,  an'  they  all  en'  thet  way,  'cept 
what's  sent  t'  th'  pen'tenchary.  But  tain't  only 
cowboys  thet's  dishonest.  I  r'member  one  time, 
when  I  wus  on  th'  cars  comin'  home  f'om  San 
Antone,  ther'  wus  a  feller  with  me  thet  didn't 
have  no  ticket,  an'  he  give  th'  c'nductor  a  ten- 
dollar  bill  fer  'is  fare.  After  while,  when  we'd 
rode  a  hunderd  miles  er  so,  mebbe,  th'  c'nductor 
comes  back,  an*  says,  'I  can't  take  this  money 
you  give  me.' 

"  '  What's  th'  matter  with  it?'  says  'e. 

" '  It's  Mexican  money,  an'  I  can't  take  it.' 
222 


" '  Then  w'y  don't  yer  give  't  t'  th'  comp'ny?' 
says  'e,  an'  th'  c'nductor  walked  out  o'  th'  car. 

"  Stealin'  f'om  th'  comp'ny?  Course  'e  wus, 
fer  I  seen  'im  th'  nex'  summer  a-drivin'  a  garbage 
wagon  't  thirty-five  a  month  an'  a-boardin'  his- 
se'f  But  I  think  gamblin'  starts  more  boys 
wrong  'an  anything  else.  Win  er  lose,  it's  all 
th'  same,  fer  money  won  's  easy  spent.  They 
don't  save  it.  Ef  they  lose,  they'll  borry  er  steal ; 
anything  t'  git  money  t'  play  with.  It's  allus  bin 
a  rule  'ith  me  never  t'  lend  a  feller  money  'at 
gambles.  Clerks,  an'  lab'rers,  an'  all  kin's  o'  per- 
fessional  men  gambles,  too.  They  work  hard  all 
week  an'  start  out  t'  break  th'  game.  They  ought 
t'  know  they  don't  stan'  no  chanst  ag'in'  a  man 
'at  handles  th'  cyards  fourteen  hours  a  day,  w'en 
they  on'y  see  a  pack  oncet  a  week  er  sich  a  mat 
ter,  but  they  don't,  an'  I  often  wonder  w'y  th' 
fool  killer  's  so  long  d'layed  in  vis'tin'  some 
local'ties.  Yes,  differ'nt  kin's  o'  gamblin',  all 
right,  jis'  like  there's  differ'nt  kin's  o'  stealin'. 
One  feller  he  plays  th'  stock  market  an'  corners 
wheat,  an'  corn,  an'  beef,  an'  ever'thing  like  thet, 
an'  bets  th'  market  '11  go  higher  er  lower;  he's 
called  a  financeer.  'Nother  'ne  bets  on  th'  cyards, 
an'  he's  called  a  gambler.  On  the  other  han', 
one  feller  p'motes  somethin',  sells  wo'thless  stock, 
robs  th'  widder  an'  orphan  out  o'  the'r  savin's, 
an'  he's  called  a  shrewd  business  man.  'Nother 
breaks  into  houses  er  steals  cattle  an'  hosses,  an' 
he's  called  a  thief.  An',  I  never  seen  a  crow  so 
black  but  what  ther's  others  jis'  as  dark  col 
ored.  The  holler  might  be  a  little  differ'nt,  meb- 
be,  but  all  crows  '11  suck  aiggs,  I  reckon.  A 
thief's  a  thief,  a  gambler's  a  gambler,  a  liar's  a 
223 


liar,  an'  a  drunkard's  a  drunkard.  Ejicated 
people  have  hifalutin'  names  fer  men  in  different 
walks  o'  life,  but  ther's  on'y  two  sides  t'  a  board 
fence.  Ef  ther's  a  knot  hole  on  one  side,  ye 
kin  see  things  f'om  tother  side  ef  ye'll  on'y  hev 
a  look.  But  sassi'ty  don't  cut  th'  herd  like  I  do. 
A  man  steals  a  big  sum,  an'  ef  he's  sent  t'  prison 
't  all  he's  pard'ned  out,  an'  people  look  up  to  'im 
an*  say,  'in  a  moment  uv  th'otlessn'ss  he  went 
wrong.  He's  give  a  great  deal  t'  charity,  an'  's 
a  fine  man.  Fergit  it.'  A  feller  'at  steals  a  loaf 
o'  bread  t'  keep  f'om  starvin',  er  a  sack  o'  coal 
t'  keep  f'om  freezin',  is  give  sixty  days  an'  brand 
ed  a  thief.  Th'  millionaire  lies  t'  th'  tax  c'llector 
an'  gives  false  testimony  t'  th'  court,  but  ef 
anybody  dares  t'  criticise  'im  'is  frien's  sez  'e  jis' 
made  a  little  mistake;  but  th'  pore  wretch  'at 
lies  t'  save  'is  team  er  'is  las'  cow  f'om  th'  sher'ff 
by  sayin'  they're  'is  wife's,  's  pros'cuted  fer  per- 
j'ry.  An'  so  it  goes.  Th'  dollar  mark  's  th' 
crookedes'  thing  I  ever  seen.  Ye  can't  tell  what 
bran'  a  steer  wore  by  eatin'  th'  beef  steak;  ye 
got  t'  see  th'  hide  to  do  thet,  I  reckon." 


224 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Charley  left  immediately  for  home,  going  by 
way  of  Rock  creek,  to  take  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Clark 
from  the  general.  I  was  soon  able  to  be  out,  and 
joined  the  girls  in  long  rides  through  the  sand 
hills,  hunting  wolves  and  mountain  lions.  Mr. 
Malone  went  home  with  the  general,  bought  old 
Red's  place  at  the  head  of  Rock  creek,  came  back, 
abandoned  his  ranch  on  the  Arkansas,  and  began 
to  make  arrangements  to  move. 

"  I  hate  to  leave  the  old  homestead,"  said  he, 
"but  there  are  too  many  rustlers  here.  My  cat 
tle  drift  off  during  the  winter,  and  I  lose  what 
ought  to  be  my  profit." 

When  the  cattle  were  all  gathered,  they  were 
started  up  the  Big  Sandy,  Blue  Eye,  Me-Me,  and 
I  assisting  with  the  drive.  All  went  well  until 
we  reached  the  south  fork  of  the  Republican 
river.  A  heavy  hail  storm  stampeded  the  cat 
tle,  and  many  of  our  horses  were  badly  cut  by 
running  into  the  wire  fences.  For  almost  a  week 
we  rode  day  and  night,  with  scarcely  an  hour's 
rest,  gathering  the  cattle. 

"  We  will  take  what  we  have,"  said  Mr.  Ma- 
lone,  as  we  were  coming  in  from  the  hills  one 
evening  after  an  unusually  hard  day's  ride,  "and 
go  on  to  Rock  creek.  I  will  send  a  man  over  here 
to  join  the  beef  roundup  next  month,  to  gather 
what  got  away." 

"  Where  are  the  girls,  Charles  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Malone  of  her  husband,  as  we  rode  into  camp. 

225 


"  We  haven't  seen  them  since  morning." 

"  Didn't  you  see  Nona  and  Helen  ?  They  rode 
up  the  canyon  to  meet  you." 

"  No.  We  saw  some  Indians  to  the  east  of 
us  this  morning  as  we  rode  out,  and  sent  Over 
alls  Jack  back  to  camp  to  tell  you  not  to  let  the 
girls  ride  out  today,  and  for  him  to  stay  and  help 
the  day  herders.  Didn't  he  come?" 

"  We  haven't  seen  him  since  morning." 

"Didn't  he  come  back?" 

"  No,  I  tell  you ;  and  I  fear  the  Indians  have 
killed  him  and  carried  away  the ..  girls.  If  they 
have,  what  shall  we  do?  Hurry,  we  must  hunt 
them." 

Blue  Eye  and  Me-Me  came  around  the  corner 
of  the  pasture  fence,  screaming  at  the  top  of 
their  voices. 

"  Quick !  There  they  go  up  the  river !  See ! 
The  girls'  ponies  are  coming  back." 

Muggins  had  come  into  camp  after  a  biscuit. 
I  had  my  saddle  on  him  in  an  instant,  and  was 
soon  in  sight  of  the  Indians,  who,  I  could  see, 
were  carrying  the  girls.  I  was  slowly  gaining 
on  them,  but  did  not  think  of  what  I  was  to  do 
when  I  overtook  them.  I  had  outridden  Malone 
and  the  girls  who  were  following  me,  and  they 
were  lost  to  sight.  After  a  chase  of  eight  or 
ten  miles,  a  bullet  from  my  sixshooter  must 
have  passed  pretty  close  to  the  Indians,  for  they 
left  the  trail  and  sought  shelter  behind  a  little 
cleft  of  rocks.  When  I  got  up  to  within  about 
a  hundred  yards  of  them  they  opened  fire  on 
me,  and  their  bullets  seemed  to  sing  a  new  tune. 
I  left  the  trail  and  got  out  of  range  as  quickly 
as  possible.  Mr.  Malone  and  Blue  Eye  would 

226 


have  ridden  up  to  the  Indians  and  been  killed 
had  I  not  been  there  to  wave  them  back.  The 
Indians  would  not  come  out  in  the  open,  how 
ever,  without  carrying  one  of  the  girls  in  their 
arms.  This  was  to  keep  us  from  firing  back 
at  them. 

"Well,"  said  the  father  of  the  girls,  "let's 
wade  in  on  them." 

"  Not  now.  We  must  wait  awhile,"  said  Blue 
Eye. 

"  Wait  nothing.  It's  almost  sundown  now, 
and  when  it  gets  dark  they  will  slip  away." 

"  But  they  will  kill  the  girls  if  we  start  the 
fight." 

"  Well,  if  they  do,  I'd  rather  they'd  kill  them 
than  carry  them  away.  Come  on,  Kid,  if  you  are 
going  to  help  me." 

"  Wait,  Charlie,  until  we  can  talk  this  mat 
ter  over.  An  excited  man  commits  rash  acts. 
It  is  folly  to  ride  up  there  and  be  shot  down." 

"  Twould  matter  but  little  if  I'm  to  lose  my 
girls,"  but  he  dismounted  and  began  to  weep 
like  a  child. 

"There,  hear  that?"  he  continued.  "Poor 
little  ones  crying  now  as  though  they  were  being 
tortured.  My  God!  My  God!" 

"  How  many  Indians  are  there  ?"  asked  Blue 
Eye. 

"  Five  or  six,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  this  is  too  much ;  I'm  going  after  those 
girls,"  said  Mr.  Malone,  as  he  made  a  move  to 
mount,  but  I  caught  him  and  persuaded  him  to 
wait  until  it  was  dark.  This  he  finally  agreed  to 
do. 

227 


"  What  will  you  do  then  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone 
that  indicated  he  thought  I  was  afraid  to  fight, 
and  had  persuaded  him  to  keep  out  of  range. 

"  I  hardly  know  until  I  can  get  close  enough 
to  see  their  hiding  place.  When  it  is  darker  I 
will  crawl  up  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  and,  if  pos 
sible,  get  Blue  Eye  up  within  hearing,  and  learn 
what  they  propose  to  do.  She  can  understand 
them,  and  if  they  will  talk  it  will  give  us  the 
advantage.  We  will  get  back  behind  this  little 
ridge  and  wait." 

As  it  grew  darker  the  coyotes  came  nearer 
and  barked  and  howled  until  our  ears  rang  with 
the  noise.  A  little  band  of  cattle  on  their  way 
to  the  river  for  a  drink  came  near  us,  stopped, 
lowered  their  heads  and  pawed  up  the  sand  as 
they  circled  around  us,  but  finally  went  on  their 
way. 

"  Stay  here,"  I  said  to  them,  "and  I  will  hang 
on  the  side  of  Muggins  and  follow  these  cat 
tle.  Don't  move  until  I  come  back,  for  if  you 
do,  we  may  not  find  each  other  again." 

After  an  hour's  hunt  I  went  back,  convinced 
that  the  Indians  were  still  secreted  behind  the 
bluffs. 

"  We  must  wait  till  the  moon  comes  up," 
said  I.  "They  are  hiding  on  the  northwest  side 
of  those  rocks.  You  remain  here,  and  I  will 
return  shortly  after  the  moon  comes  up." 

I  returned  to  the  river  bottom  and  found  the 
cattle  had  bedded  themselves  down  near  the 
bluff,  and  all  was  quiet.  I  dismounted  and  hid 
under  my  horse.  By  tapping  his  front  legs  I 
could  make  him  move  up,  step  by  step.  I  kept 

228 


this  up  until  within  about  two  hundred  feet  of 
the  bluff.  I  could  hear  the  girls  sobbing,  and 
their  calls  for  some  one  to  come  and  get  them 
were  the  most  pitiful  I  ever  heard;  but  I  could 
not  answer  their  calls,  nor  did  I  dare  even  to 
speak  to  them.  My  legs  cramped,  but  I  re 
mained  quiet.  When  a  dim  light  began  to  show 
in  the  east  I  wanted  to  shout,  for  it  meant  a  re 
lief  from  the  awful  strain.  Gradually  it  grew 
lighter,  but  the  minutes  seemed  like  hours.  At 
first  I  could  see  dark  objects  around  me,  and  as 
I  watched  their  forms  became  plainer.  Cattle 
were  all  about  me.  The  Indians  had  staked  their 
ponies  alorfg  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  I  was 
between  them  and  the  bluff.  As  the  moon  arose 
over  the  opposite  bluff  I  saw  the  two  girls  a 
few  feet  away  from  the  rocks,  back  to  back, 
lashed  together  with  a  saddle  rope.  I  was  just 
thinking  the  Indians  were  asleep,  when  one 
of  them  walked  by  me,  stopped  and  slapped  the 
girls  in  the  face,  stamped  his  foot,  gave  a  few 
grunts,  then  rolled  up  in  his  saddle  blankets 
and  lay  down  beside  the  bluff.  I  waited  a  few 
moments,  then  turning  my  horse,  worked  my 
way  back  out  of  sight,  mounted,  and  rode  away. 
I  found  Mr.  Malone  and  Blue  Eye  out  of  patience 
and  almost  cross,  but  told  them  as  hurriedly  as 
I  could  what  I  had  seen.  We  then  went  down 
to  the  river,  circled  around  to  where  the  Indians' 
horses  were  staked,  and  cut  the  stake  ropes. 

"  The  girls  are  lashed  together,  and  I  can 
pick  them  up  with  Muggins  going  at  full  speed," 
said  I.  "Now,  let's  get  back  in  the  shadow  of 
the  bluff." 

229 


"  No,  don't  try  that ;  they  are  too  heavy  for 
you.  Let's  both  go  and  ride  side  by  side,"  said 
Mr.  Malone. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "that  won't  do,  either.  There 
is  going  to  be  some  fighting  before  we  get  away, 
and  one  of  us  must  help  Blue  Eye." 

"Yes,  that's  so,"  he  replied.  "But  let's  do 
something  besides  stand  here.  Those  girls  never 
called  me  that  I  didn't  go  to  them,  and  I'm  going 
now." 

"  We  must  crawl  up,  leading  our  horses  by 
their  saddle  ropes.  Blue  Eye  will  ride  along 
close  behind.  We  will  get  the  girls  and  hand 
them  over  to  her. 

"That's  all  I  want  to  know— that  you  will 
stay  with  me.  Come  on,  for  I  want  to  go  in  the 
lead.  Here  is  where  I  get  even,"  and  he  started 
on. 

"  Not  so  fast,"  I  whispered.  "Get  down  and 
crawl." 

He  waved  his  hand  back  at  me,  indicating 
that  I  should  follow,  bent  over  a  little,  and  went 
on.  Would  the  Indians  hear  us?  Were  they  all 
asleep,  or  were  they  waiting  for  us  to  come  near 
enough  to  make  sure  with  the  first  shot?  The 
grass  cracked  like  dry  twigs  and  our  hearts 
beat  as  loudly  as  a  rawhide  turn-turn.  Faster 
and  faster  we  went,  and  when  within  about  one 
hundred  feet  of  the  girls  Malone  dropped  his 
saddle  rope,  started  on  a  run,  stumbled,  and  fell 
over  a  calf  that  lay  in  the  shade  of  a  big  rock. 
He  may  have  said,  "Bless  that  calf!"  though  I 
don't  think  he  did;  but  on  he  went,  and  in  an 
instant  was  out  in  the  open  carrying  the  girls. 
They  were  tied  to  the  saddle  the  watchman  was 

230 


using  for  a  pillow,  and  when  this  moved  he 
awoke  and  gave  the  alarm.  I  saw  the  saddle 
bumping  along  after  him,  and  rushed  up  and 
cut  the  rope.  They  were  quickly  thrown  over 
the  saddle  in  front  of  Blue  Eye,  who,  putting 
spurs  to  her  horse,  went  galloping  down  the 
river. 

"  Here's  where  I  get  even,"  said  Mr.  Malone, 
after  quiet  had  been  restored.  "My  left  arm 
stings  a  little,  and  I  realize  now  what  a  tight  place 
we  were  in.  Five  to  two,  but  we  had  them  going 
and  down  to  our  number  before  they  woke  up. 
Your  plan  was  best,  but  I  was  so  excited  I  would 
have  ridden  right  into  the  camp  and  opened  up  on 
them." 

Blue  Eye  stopped  after  carrying  the  girls 
about  a  mile,  dismounted,  and  untied  the  rope 
that  bound  them  together. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?"  she  asked,  as  we  rode  up, 
for  she  had  recognized  our  voices. 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "just  a  little  scratch  on  my 
left  arm.  We  caught  them  napping,  and  the  rest 
was  easy." 

The  family  reunion  held  that  night  when  we 
reached  camp  was  the  happiest  one  I  ever  at 
tended.  Although  tears  flowed  freely  our  joy 
knew  no  bounds,  and  each  in  turn  held  the  other 
in  a  long,  fond  embrace. 

At  daybreak  next  morning  we  rode  up  the 
canyon  about  a  mile  and  found  the  body  of  Over 
alls  Jack.  The  Indians  had  shot  him,  taken  the 
scalp  and  crushed  his  skull.  We  buried  the 
body,  marked  the  place  with  rocks,  returned  to 
camp,  and  were  soon  pushing  the  cattle  out  over 

231 


the  trail  leading  toward  the  head  of  Cottonwood 
gulch. 

"  The  very  place  where  we  camped  when  the 
Indians  killed  my  father  and  brother,  and  car 
ried  mother,  sister  and  I  away,"  said  Blue  Eye, 
as  we  rode  along,  bringing  up  the  rear  of  the 
herd. 

"  I  did  not  want  to  stop  there,  but  feared  you 
would  all  call  me  foolish  if  I  said  anything;  but 
I  will  never  camp  there  again." 

"  And  I'm  not  in  love  with  that  place,  either, 
for  there  is  where  those  desperados  attempted 
to  rob  me.  I  would  have  shown  you  the  bones 
of  old  Tige,  my  pack  horse,  but  I  do  not  like 
to  refer  to  that  trip.  Up  here  a  little  farther 
you  will  see  the  remains  of  old  Bloch,  the  horse 
I  rode  to  death." 

"  Is  this  the  trail  you  came  over  that  night, 
with  the  money  hid  in  the  bell  strap?" 

"  Yes,  and  tonight  we  will  camp  at  the  springs 
in  Cottonwood  gulch  where  Speck  killed  those 
fellows  who  were  going  to  hang  me.  See  the 
remains  of  old  Bloch  out  there?" 

"  Yes,  poor  old  fellow.  If  I  had  a  spade  I 
would  bury  his  bones." 

We  reached  the  springs  in  Cottonwood  gulch 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  but  did  not 
go  into  camp  as  we  intended.  The  trees  looked 
like  they  were  dying,  and  long  streamers  of  webs 
as  black  as  crepe  hung  from  their  branches.  The 
ground  squirrels  had  deserted  the  place,  and  the 
song  birds  had  flown.  The  stillness  made  our 
flesh  creep,  and  each  experienced  some  new  and 
strange  feeling.  We  spoke  in  an  unusually  low 
tone,  but  the  sound  of  our  voices  appeared  to 

232 


echo  back  and  forth  across  the  canyon.  We 
hurried  on  down  to  the  Arickaree  and  camped 
for  the  night,  reaching  the  Three  Bar  ranch  the 
next  night.  From  there  we  went  on  to  Rock 
creek,  having  been  twelve  days  on  the  trail  com 
ing  from  Los  Animas. 


233 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

It  was  the  first  of  November  when  I  turned 
in  my  string  of  horses  at  the  Three  Bar  and 
received  my  pay  for  the  summer's  work.  Tobe 
was  making  ready  for  a  trip  to  "OP  Kaintuck." 
Speck  was  expecting  some  people  from  "de 
fadderland,  und  Katrina  Liebst  vas  coomin'  mit 
dem." 

Time  had  dealt  kindly  with  Uncle  Jimmy,  and 
he  remembered  well  the  summer  he  and  Dead 
Eye  Dick  went  south  and  brought  back  twice 
as  many  cattle  as  Tomato  Charley  and  I  had 
turned  the  past  season.  The  story  of  the  tragic 
ending  of  Arkansaw  Bill's  career  had  been  car 
ried  north,  and  while  all  were  somewhat  sur 
prised,  no  one  had  a  kind  word  for  him.  He 
had  lived  the  life  he  chose,  drank  deeply  from  the 
cup  he  called  pleasure,  and  had  passed  from 
sight.  The  highest  praise  he  sought  from  his 
acquaintances,  when  alive,  was  the  title  "a  bad 
man,"  but  he  failed  to  make  good. 

"  You  can  come  back  when  you  want  to," 
said  Dan,  as  I  was  taking  my  leave.  "You 
have  done  us  good  work,  and  I  shall  keep  a  place 
for  you.  Drawing  your  salary  is  about  all  you 
will  have  to  do  this  winter  if  you  want  to 
stay." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness,  and  told  him 
I  might  return  for  a  few  weeks,  but  would  not 
come  back  to  work.  He  seemed  disappointed, 
but  when  I  told  him  I  thought  of  taking  up  land 

234 


and  making  myself  a  home  he  was  very  much 
pleased. 

"  Get  a  place  close  to  General  Clark's,  on 
Rock  creek,  and  marry  Blue  Eye.  She  is  about 
the  sweetest  girl  I  ever  knew,  and  you  are  my 
best  friend.  When  I  can  help  you,  let  me  know, 
and  I  will  be  only  too  glad  to  reciprocate  for 
the  many  extra  services  you  have  rendered  us." 

When  I  reached  Rock  creek,  Nigger  Mose 
was  the  first  to  greet  me.  He  remembered  see 
ing  me  at  Los  Animas,  but  I  did  not  recognize 
him. 

"  Hello,  Snowball,"  said  I,  as  I  dismounted 
and  led  my  horse  into  the  stable. 

"  Dat  ain't  mah  name,  suh." 

"No?    What  is  it,  then?" 

"  Niggah  Mose." 

"  Are  you  the  boy  who  carried  the  letter  up 
here  for  Charley?" 

"  Yas,  suh,  Ise  de  boy,  an'  Ise  neber  goin' 
back.  Dis  heah  gin'ral  am  dis  sich  a  fine  fellah, 
an'  Misses  she  dis  like  my  ol'  mammy  to  me, 
an  Ise  dis  gwine  to  stay  right  heah." 

"  Then  let  me  tell  you  something,  Mose ; 
something  for  your  own  good.  They  told  me 
down  at  Los  Animas  that  you  would  steal  every 
thing  you  could  get  your  hands  on;  that  you 
would  lie,  gamble,  and  get  drunk.  None  of 
that  goes  around  here,  and  you  will  have  to 
quit  it  all,  go  to  work  and  earn  an  honest  living." 

"  Fer  de  Lawd's  sake,  Kid,  I'se  done  quit  dat 
all  now.  Down  dar  I  dis  had  t'  do  dem  t'ings, 
er  I'd  bin  cut  clean  out  an'  socialistically  prog- 
nostercated." 

"Been  what?" 

235 


"  Yas,  suh,  I  dis  couldn't  er  moved  in  good 
sassi'ty.  Up  here  Ise  a  honest  niggah,  suh.  Has 
yer  got  some  gin  in  dat  bottle  what's  stickin'  out 
o'  yo'  saddle  pocket  dar?  I  dis  like  ter  feel  my 
dizziness  ag'in.  Would  fer  a  fac',  suh." 

"  No  gin,  Mose ;  that's  horse  liniment." 

"  Mbught  quench  my  craven'us  ap'tite  wif 
some  ob  dat." 

"  You'll  quench  something  if  you  drink  it, 
for  it  is  poison.  Ghosts  in  that  bottle,  all  right." 

"Goses!  Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake!  I  ain't  los' 
no  goses." 

"Well,  Kid,"  said  the  general,  after  the 
greetings  were  over,  "we  had  better  repair  to 
the  pantry,"  and  as  he  took  my  arm  and  started 
across  the  room,  asked:  "Did  you  ever  see  any 
sugar  square  cut?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  have  also  seen  some  that  was  cut 
square,"  so  with  a  lump  in  a  wine  glass  and  with 
some  fine  old  brandy  poured  over  it,  we  drank 
the  health  of  the  people  of  Rock  creek.  We 
spent  a  week  at  Malone's,  helping  him  get  his 
buildings  ready  for  winter.  Then  came  the  usual 
fall  hunt,  far  out  into  the  sand  hills  above  the 
head  of  the  creek.  We  returned  with  enough 
buffalo  meat  for  the  winter,  and  to  spare. 

It  was  nearing  Christmas  and  we  were  all 
enjoying  the  comforts  of  our  quarters.  The 
wind  was  howling  outside  and  the  windows  were 
covered  with  frost.  Nona  and  Helen  had  come 
down  to  spend  the  holidays  with  us,  and  inci 
dentally  to  tease  Blue  Eye  a  little  about  my 
Arkansas  sweethearts.  The  general  had  grown 
reminiscent,  and  was  again  relating  his  expe 
riences  while  scouting  with  old  Uncle  Zach. 

236 


"  Tell  us  about  his  wife  and  babies,  general," 
said  Nona,  as  she  took  a  seat  on  the  footstool 
in  front  of  him. 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  as  she  climbed  upon  his 
knee.  "Were  they  about  our  size  when  the 
Indians  killed  them?" 

"  No,  they  were  tiny  little  babies  then.  That 
was  twenty  years  ago.  I  have  often  thought  it 
possible  they  might  not  be  dead,  as  the  Indians 
seldom  kill  women  and  little  children.  Of  course, 
I  know  but  little  of  the  Snakes  and  Piutes  of 
Idaho,  but  from  what  I  know  of  other  tribes, 
I  would  say  it  is  likely  that  Mrs.  Foiley  and 
her  children  are  alive,  unless  they  have  died 
since  they  were  captured.  Old  Uncle  Zach  spoke 
as  if  he  thought  they  were  living,  but  he  had 
hunted  so  long  for  them  he  had  given  up  in 
despair.  I  have  just  received  a  patent  for  the 
ranch  over  on  the  Beaver,  and  if  I  ever  do  find 
them  they  shall  have  a  home.  The  land  is  very 
valuable,  and  I  shall  hold  it  as  long  as  I  live, 
even  though  we  never  hear  from  them.  If  they 
ever  should  be  found,  it  will  be  some  cold,  dark 
night  when  we  least  expect  them,  for,  you  know, 
it  could  hardly  be  otherwise.  Shipwrecked  sail 
ors  often  return  after  being  carried  many  miles 
from  home,  mourned  as  dead  for  years,  the  fond 
wife  or  loving  mother  always  keeping  the  light 
burning  brightly  in  the  window  when  the  break 
ers  roll  the  highest.  Wayward  children  return 
home  when  winter's  chilly  blasts  bite  hardest, 
and  people  held  captive  by  the  Indians  often 
make  their  escape  when  the  storm  rages  fiercest. 
I  have  felt  for  several  days  that  we  are  to  be 
surprised  before  long,  and  even  tonight  we  may 

237 


be  asked  for  lodging  by  some  one  of  that  class 
who  has  lost  his  way." 

The  general  spoke  so  earnestly  that  we  all 
felt  pretty  much  as  he  did,  and  really  believed 
some  one  was  near,  hunting  for  shelter.  All 
were  quiet,  thinking.  A  noise  at  the  kitchen 
door  startled  us,  but  it  was  only  old  Bud  who 
had  come  up  from  the  stable.  He  shook  the 
snow  from  his  wolfskin  cap,  turned  out  his 
lantern,  hung  it  up,  came  in  and  stood  frying 
the  water  out  of  his  big  leather  faced  mittens 
on  the  stovepipe. 

"  I  knowed  it  wus  comin' ;  me  corns  has  been 
hurtin'  worse  an'  worse,  an'  I  jis'  knowed  th' 
storm  wus — " 

"Oh,  Bud!  Bud!"  said  the  general,  "spare 
us  that  story  of  the  corns.  We  don't  want  to 
hear  it;  and  please  lay  your  mittens  down  under 
the  stove  to  dry,  instead  of  filling  the  room 
with  fumes  of  burning  leather." 

The  old  man  did  not  reply,  but  backed  up 
in  the  corner  and  sat  down  in  the  woodbox.  It 
was  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had  been  denied 
the  pleasure  of  giving  his  observation  on  the 
weather  as  indicated  by  his  corns.  He  was  hurt, 
and  his  face  plainly  showed  it.  He  sat  with  his 
head  resting  on  one  of  his  hands  for  a  few 
moments,  then  retired  without  saying  good 
night. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  hurt  the  old  fellow's  feelings," 
said  the  general,  "but  I  simply  can't  stand 
his  corns.  I  think  I  have  suffered  more  on  ac 
count  of  them  than  he  has.  There  has  not  been 
a  storm  on  the  plains  the  past  fifteen  years  that 

238 


he  did  not  know  by  his  corns  it  was  coming; 
that  is,  after  it  had  got  here." 

"  Did  he  ever  try  water  to  see  what  effect 
that  would  have  on  those  corns  ?"  asked  Nona, 
and  she  looked  at  us  as  if  wondering  what  we 
were  laughing  at. 

All  were  soon  quiet  again  and  looking  as 
serious  as  ever.  The  snow  beat  against  the  win 
dows  with  increased  fury.  The  wind  whistled 
more  loudly  as  it  drove  on  toward  the  south.  It 
was  nearly  midnight,  and  why  we  were  not  all 
in  bed  no  one  had  ventured  to  say.  Nigger 
Mose  startled  us  by  rushing  in  from  the  bunk 
house  ,looking  as  if  he  were  scared  half  to 
death. 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  General,  come  out 
heah,  quick!  Sumpin'  awful's  gwine  ter  hap 
pen  ef  ye  don't." 

"  Well,  I  guess  we  had  better  go,  then.  What 
seems  to  be  the  matter,  Mose?" 

"  Well  I  reckon  de  sun  not  gwine  ter  shine  ter- 
night,  lak  it  do  on  de  Fo'th  ob  July,  kaise  he's 
dun  gone  too  fur  souf  fer  dat." 

"Yes?" 

"  Yas,  suh,  an'  I  doan'  convince  myse'f  dat 
dis  heah  weathah  am  not  conductious  to  pleas- 
an'  dreams  ef  yer  hab  ter  use  er  snowdrif  fer 
a  piller,  an'  cover  yerse'f  wif  de  blue  dome  ob 
heaben." 

"  For  pity's  sake,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Have 
you  gone  crazy?" 

"  Yas,  suh.  De  light  f 'om  de  boriealice  shine 
out  ob  de  norf,  but  he  ain't  got  no  heat  ter  cheer 
de  weary  trabler  on  he  way,  suh.  I  cain't  dis 
splainate  de  whyfore  ub  de  thusness,  ner  why  de 

239 


hencity  ub  de  hencefo'thness  is  not  identical  ob 
de  neberdelessness  ub  de  heretofoh.  Yassah,  I  like 
de  good  or  souf  Ian'  de  bes'. 

"  'Down  whar  de  song  birds  go, 
'Down  whar  de  souf  winds  blow, 
'Down  whar  de  pickaninnies  grow, 
'In  dat  good  ol'  Souf  Ian'.'" 

"  What  have  we  here,  anyway — one  end  of  a 
negro  minstrel  show?" 

"  No,  suh,  hit's  dis  one  aind  ob  Niggah  Mose. 
An'  I  'spec'  ef  ye'll  dis  peramm'late  down  by  de 
stable,  ye'll  find  somebudy  dat  am  too  much  snow 
blindness  to  fin'  de  way  up  heah  t'  de  house. 
Golly,  nice  an'  wahm  in  heah;  'tis  for  a  fac'." 

"  Is  there  some  one  down  at  the  stable,  Mose  ? 
Is  that  what  you  have  been  trying  to  tell  us?" 

"  Yassah.  But  I  done  tol'  'em,  suh,  dat  dey's 
mighty  artisticrat'cally  folks  live  heah,  an'  dey 
couldn't  come  ontel  dey  sent  in  dey  cyards.  Got 
ter  be  mighty  pow'ful  keerful  'bout  pore  trash 
what  am  out  snoopin'  aroun'." 

But  the  general  and  I  had  gone  to  the  stable, 
where  we  found  a  man  and  woman,  almost 
frozen. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  the  general.  "The 
Kid  will  take  care  of  your  horses,"  and  he  led 
them  to  the  house. 

No  questions  were  asked.  All  were  silent, 
watching  the  strangers  as  they  sat  by  the  stove. 
When  I  entered,  they  arose  and  extended  their 
hands. 

"General,"  said  I,  "it's  Frank  and  Ollie 
Everton." 

"  Not  now,"  said  Frank.  "Introduce  us  as 
Foiley,  the  children  of  old  Uncle  Zach." 

240 


"  Are  we  greeting  the  children  of  old  Uncle 
Zach  Foiley?"  said  the  general,  "stolen  from 
him  nearly  twenty  years  ago?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  we  have  come  to  see  if  you 
can  tell  us  where  he  is.  We  lost  our  way  down 
the  creek  here,  and  thought  for  awhile  that  we 
must  surely  give  up;  but  we  are  here,  and  the 
warm  greeting  we  have  received  goes  deeper 
than  the  heat  of  the  stove." 

"  We  are  glad  you  feel  that  way,  for  you  are 
certainly  as  welcome  as  if  you  were  members  of 
our  own  family." 

"  We  thank  you.  Do  you  know  where 
father  is?" 

"  Yes.  He  has  been  dead  almost  a  year." 

"  Too  late,  too  late,  Frank,"  said  the  girl, 
as  she  arose  and  threw  her  arms  about  her  broth 
er's  neck.  It  was  some  minutes  before  either 
could  speak. 

"  Poor  old  father !  All  our  lives  he  has  been 
hunting  for  us,  and  to  think  we  have  been  liv 
ing  so  near  him.  Too  bad,  isn't  it,  sister?" 

The  girl  made  an  effort  to  answer,  but  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands,  and  the  boy  continued: 

"  We  were  only  little  tots,  by  the  name  of 
Overton,  when  we  moved  to  the  Boise  basin. 
Where  we  lived  prior  to  that  time,  we  will  never 
know.  When  we  were  about  twelve  years  old 
an  old  prospector  told  us  of  the  Indian  trou 
bles  in  the  Owyhees,  and  the  supposed  death  of 
our  father.  Mother  had  never  told  us  this,  or 
what  our  real  name  was.  Our  stepfather  was 
of  a  roving  disposition,  or,  in  other  words,  ut 
terly  worthless;  and  although  he  kept  us  on  the 
go  most  of  the  time,  I  managed  to  earn  enough 

241 


to  support  the  family  and  give  Ollie  an  educa 
tion.  I  went  to  school  a  part  of  two  terms  when 
we  were  in  the  Coeur  d'Alenes,  in  Northern 
Idaho,  but  that  was  all.  About  four  years  ago 
we  moved  to  the  ranch  on  the  Arkansas,  just 
across  the  river  from  Charles  Malone's,  but 
every  one  knew  us  as  the  Overton  children.  After 
mortgaging  all  our  stock  and  the  ranch,  our  step 
father  left.  The  property  was  sold  at  sheriff's 
sale,  and  a  short  time  ago  mother  died.  When 
she  learned  she  had  to  go,  she  told  us  our  real 
name ;  that  she  thought  father  was  up  here  some 
where,  and  if  not,  you  would  know,  for  you  and 
he  had  scouted  together.  The  Kid  here  had 
told  us  of  old  Uncle  Zach,  but  we  never  dreamed 
that  the  kindly  old  soul  was  our  father.  We 
have  nothing  left  but  our  two  ponies  and  sad 
dles,  but  the  suspense  is  over  and  I  can  soon 
find  work.  Dry  your  tears,  sister;  we  must 
forget  the  past  and  commence  making  plans  for 
the  future.  We  owe  the  Kid  an  apology  for  not 
visiting  him  oftener  while  at  Malone's,  but  we 
were  so  worried  about  our  own  affairs  we  could 
not  see  anyone." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  I.  "My  only  regret  is  that 
I  did  not  know  your  name  was  Foiley  when  I 
first  met  you ;  but  matters  could  be  worse.  Gen 
eral,  tell  them  of  the  old  Beaver  homestead,  and 
the  cattle  we  gathered  last  summer." 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  the  opportunity. 
Shortly  after  your  father  died  I  went  to  Den 
ver  and  applied  for  administrator's  papers.  I 
then  asked  the  land  office  officials  to  have  a  pat 
ent  issued  to  the  heirs  of  Zach  Foiley.  This 
was  done,  and  the  county  judge  appointed  me 

242 


trustee  for  those  heirs.  The  land  is  the  most 
valuable  of  any  in  the  country,  and  we  have 
gathered  about  fifty  head  of  cattle.  The  Z.  F. 
brand  is  yours,  and  when  we  can  go  to  Denver 
the  property  can  be  transferred  to  you  children." 
"Do  you  hear  that,  sister?"  said  Frank,  and 
the  tears  again  came  to  their  eyes. 

"  Yes,  but  it  all  sounds  so  strange  and  for 
eign.  Without  you  I  should  have  died  of  neg 
lect,  but  here  I  am  surrounded  by  friends,  so 
good  and  so  kind,  I  cannot  realize  it  all  now. 
My  strength  is  gone,  and  I  must  lie  down.  I  have 
a  kiss  for  you  all,  and  will  thank  you  again 


Three  years  have  passed  since  Frank  and 
Ollie  Foiley  came  to  the  general's  ranch  on  Rock 
creek.  Three  times  have  the  Sioux  and  Chey- 
ennes  made  their  annual  pilgrimages  south,  and 
three  times  have  they  returned  to  the  reserva 
tion.  Three  times  have  the  song  birds  re 
turned  from  the  southland,  and  three  times  have 
they  gone  back  to  their  winter  home.  Blue  Eye 
has  been  my  wife  for  three  years,  and  my  little 
sweethearts  haunt  her  no  more.  Tobe  and  Edna 
live  on  the  Arickaree,  and  near  them  is  the  home 
of  Speck  and  Katrina.  Me-Me  has  a  brother  and 
sister,  Ab  Clark,  Jr.,  and  little  Eva.  The  gen 
eral  transferred  the  Beaver  ranch,  once  owned 
by  Uncle  Zach,  to  the  heirs,  Frank  and  Ollie,  and 
they  are  now  prosperous  and  happy.  Old  Dan 
still  rides  the  range,  and  Uncle  Jimmy  has  lived 
in  communities  where  there  were  fewer  rustlers. 
The  widow  eloped  from  Binkleman  with  a  pat- 

243 


ent  medicine  fakir,  and  Tomato  Charley  writes 
from  Honolulu: 

"  What  ye  heared  'bout  th'  islan's  is  all  true. 
Th'  wine  o'  th'  banana  '11  make  ye  glad,  an'  th' 
wimmen  '11  love  ye,  which  is  nothin'  ag'in'  th' 
country,  I  reckon." 

Old  Red  is  still  in  the  Rocky  mountains  look 
ing  for  "parites  uv  assessment"  and  other  hopes, 
while  old  Bud's  corns  have  faithfully  foretold 
the  coming  of  every  winter's  storms.  Charles 
Malone  and  wife  are  prominent  people,  and  Nona 
and  Helen  (the  Malone  sisters),  are  the  sweet 
est  little  girls  in  the  country. 

Cottonwood  gulch  still  remains  open  to  set 
tlement,  and  the  strange  lights  seen  there  on 
dark  nights  are  still  a  mystery.  The  moss  on 
the  trees  has  turned  darker,  and  the  crepe  like 
webs  that  hang  from  the  branches  now  reach 
almost  to  the  ground.  Queer  figures  may  be 
seen  at  night,  and  the  howl  of  a  coyote  will  echo 
back  and  forth  across  the  canyon  for  several 
minutes.  The  waters  from  the  spring  flow  on 
toward  the  river,  and  strange  faces  have  been 
seen  in  the  little  pools.  Many  people  have  vis 
ited  the  gulch,  determined  on  ferreting  out  the 
mysteries  surrounding  it,  but  none  ever  re 
mained  over  night.  Stock  will  not  go  to  the 
springs  for  water,  but  keep  to  the  ridge  and 
hurry  on  to  the  river.  The  last  time  I  visited 
the  place  was  in  company  with  the  general, 
Charles  Malone  and  our  families.  Sam,  the 
horsebreaker  from  Burntwood,  and  Nigger  Mose, 
accompanied  us.  Anyone  who  knows  anything 
about  colored  people  will  tell  you  a  majority  of 
them  are  born  with  a  fully  developed  imagina- 

244 


tion.  This  was  true  of  Sam  and  Mose.  They 
remained  with  us  until  dusk,  then  expressed  a 
desire  to  be  "Sa'nterin'  erbout."  They  saw 
something  up  on  the  side  hill  back  of  the  ceme 
tery,  and  started  south.  That  was  many  months 
ago,  and  although  there  were  a  few  dollars  due 
the  boys  in  wages,  the  last  heard  of  them  they 
had  passed  through  Los  Animas  on  their  way 
back  to  Texas. 

Muggins  and  Roany  share  alike  when  the 
scraps  of  bread  are  carried  out  to  them,  and  a 
sandwich  with  sugar  on  it  is  a  part  of  their  daily 
allowance. 


245 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-50m-5,' 70  ( N6725s8 ) 458— A-33 /I 


N?  766199 


Mock,   F.G. 
Blue  Eye. 


PS3525 

0112 

B5 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


